All Things Pass
by Kissman
Summary: Set after 4.03. Mrs. Hughes struggles to deal with what has happened to Anna. A collection of scenes to fill the gaps left by the show.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I wanted to explore the consequences of what happened to Anna in 4.03 for Mrs. Hughes. She comes across as plenty fierce in her handling of it but I'm pretty sure there was a lot more going on underneath the surface.**

**I have ignored all of Anna's feelings/thoughts/suffering surrounding this incident and focused only on those of Mrs. Hughes. This is deliberate. I do not understand the incident from Anna's (or Mr. Bates) point of view enough to write anything honest or meaningful about it, so I have not tried. Mrs. Hughes on the other hand I relate to all too well, unfortunately.**

**Italics are used for thoughts, emphasis and lines lifted directly from the show, I hope it isn't too confusing. If you have any formatting (or general) suggestions please let me know in a review.**

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

_"Maybe the doctor's still here…" Mrs. Hughes turned for the door but Anna clutched her arm frantically._

_ "Will you listen? I need your help or I wouldn't have told you! Nobody else must ever know. You promise me!"_

_ Mrs. Hughes nodded as neutrally as she could manage. "Well wait here, I'll fetch you some water and a comb. And see what I can find you in the way of a dress."_

* * *

Mrs. Hughes left her sitting room so distracted she almost bowled poor Mr. Carson over.

"Are you all right Mrs. Hughes?" he asked steadying her with his outstretched arm.

"Yes, I'm sorry Mr. Caron, excuse me." She had no time for small talk at the moment. Not with Anna curled over in agony in the next room. She pushed the horrible images out of her mind to focused solely on the task before her: dress, comb and water.

Mrs. Hughes hurried upstairs to her bedroom in search of a dress for Anna. She found the smallest one she had, it would be a wee bit big on her, but it would have to do. Remembering the poor girls tangled hair she also took the comb from her nightstand and tucked it into her pocket.

As she moved down the corridor another thought occurred to her: _I better find some underclothing, hers might be torn. _What a horrid thought, but then again it was a horrid business altogether. She would have to go to the laundry and find something.

_I cannot believe it. How did this happen under our roof?_

There was no time for such notions now. Quickly she went about her work. The house was quiet, the day all but over, so no one paid her any mind. She managed to find clean drawers for Anna and tucked them carefully into the dress so they didn't show. She walked as quickly as she dared back downstairs, trying to prepare herself for walking back into that room.

When she opened the door Anna was nowhere to be seen but she heard the muffled sobs from behind the writing desk. There she was, curled up just as before on the floor.

"Oh Anna," she breathed.

Anna turned to look at her, gulping air. She'd shed so many tears that there were few left. Mrs. Hughes took in the cuts on her face and how gingerly she held her side. Her heart ached for her.

"Anna we _must_ send for the Doctor," she said gently.

"No!" Anna implored, "please don't Mrs. Hughes, please! I told you, no one can know. P…Please."

Mrs. Hughes loathed that her words had caused Anna more distress and she reassured her at once: "Alright, it's alright dear. I won't, if you don't want me to."

"P…Promise," stammered Anna.

"Yes," said Mrs. Hughes reluctantly, "but let me help you."

Mrs. Hughes had spent some forty years in service and she had seen her fair share of roughed up young women. Girls pinched and prodded in the halls by unkind male staff members, unwelcome kisses, touches, or simply cruel words. Downton Abbey, unlike some places she could remember, had not stood for such things and it was partly the reason Mrs. Hughes had put her roots down here. A house where the people were respectable and there were often too many eyes for such reprehensible behaviour.

She remembered back to her second position – a housemaid in a fine house back in Scotland. His name had been Albert and he used to deliver the ice for the icebox. He'd cornered her in the larder and pinned her arms back while he kissed her. He even managed to push his hand a good ways up her skirt before his father came round the corner and boxed him about the ears. As they left he'd shouted over his shoulder: "boys will be boys" as if this was some manner of apology. She'd told no one and left shortly there after for another posting. Mrs. Hughes winced. The memory stung, but it paled in comparison to the horror before her. What had happened to Anna Bates was worst than anything she'd ever seen.

"It's ruined," said Anna looking down at her dress. She was quite right; her apron had ripped in several places and was specked with blood. The dress underneath hadn't fared much better, the seam along the side had completely come apart.

"Never mind that now, see if you can put this on," said Mrs. Hughes, pressing the clean dress into her hands, "I'm going to fetch the first aid kit so we can deal with that lip."

Anna nodded her understanding. Mrs. Hughes was back to being all business about the situation and Anna was grateful. That's really what she needed and Mrs. Hughes could see that, plain as day. She fished the iodine and some cotton balls out the first aid kit in her desk drawer, but Anna was still fumbling with her buttons.

"I'll get you some water while you change my dear," said Mrs. Hughes patiently. She peeked around the door and found the hallway mercifully empty. She wondered where Mr. Bates was – surely he would be looking for his wife before heading home? Wherever he was it was not downstairs and Mrs. Hughes was able to take a jug of water from the kitchens unimpeded.

When she brought it back she found Anna still fumbling with her buttons, utterly frustrated.

"I can't," she said her breath coming in rapid bursts, "I can't make them work, I just can't!" Her hands were shaking too much for her to undo them properly. Mrs. Hughes knelt down beside her.

"May I?" she asked.

"Yes…please," replied Anna.

Mrs. Hughes reached for the buttons and began undoing them with practiced precision. She too had been a ladies maid at one point. She slipped the garment off as carefully as she could, as every movement seemed to cause Anna pain. She helped her out of her underclothing and into the clean things in silence, as quickly and as matronly as possible. When she helped the new dress over Anna's head she noticed the girl was already much steadier than when she'd started. _Good _thought Mrs. Hughes, _we're getting somewhere._

Next she tackled Anna's tangled hair. "Now I want you to hold the pins, can you do that for me?" Mrs. Hughes asked her. She could have easily put them in a pile on the desk but she wanted to give Anna something to do.

"Yes."

Mrs. Hughes set about taking the mess of pins out of Anna's hair and combing it through. She handed each hairpin to her and Anna clutched them diligently. She flinched a few times as Mrs. Hughes worked the worst of the knots out.

"Would you like me to put it back up for you?" she asked when she had finished brushing it.

"I can do it," said Anna.

Mrs. Hughes smiled at her. "Of course."

It took her longer than usual but at least she had done it herself. When she had finished she turned to Mrs. Hughes for approval.

"That's lovely," said Mrs. Hughes biting her lip. She wanted to reach out and hug Anna with all her might, as if with her love she could erase all of the hurt and wickedness the world had dealt.

Instead, she turned her attention to the cut on Anna's lip. It wasn't bleeding much but it was still fairly deep. Mrs. Hughes dabbed a bit of iodine on it and Anna winced.

"Hold still," Mrs. Hughes instructed pressing on the wound with a damp cloth. "There you are, that's better."

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes," said Anna, "I better head home."

"Anna I'm so sorry," she said, helping her to her feet. "Let me walk you out."

"No thank you Mrs. Hughes." said Anna firmly.

Mrs. Hughes could see there was no point in arguing when her mind was made up. She stroked the housemaid's cheek comfortingly, "if you're sure."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine," Anna insisted.

_Somehow, I doubt that very much, _thought Mrs. Hughes sadly, closing the door behind her.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thank you to those of you that took the time to review my last chapter, it was very kind of you. Please continue to let me know what you think! There are some C/H moments coming up later, but it's not to be a dashing angst-turned-romantic love story by any means. Just some friendly hope-everything-is-ok type stuff.**

**I'm really selling this aren't I? Well, many people found the storyline upsetting so call this therapeutic. **

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

A bell rung and Mrs. Hughes remembered her promise to Anna that she would attend to Lady Mary. Once again she was snapped out of her thoughts and she scurried upstairs, mentally preparing Anna's excuse.

"Mrs. Hughes? Where is Anna?" asked Lady Mary.

"I'm afraid she had a headache m'lady," said Mrs. Hughes calmly, "I sent her home."

"Oh dear," said Lady Mary sympathetically, for she was terribly fond of Anna. "Well, I'm sure we will manage."

"Of course m'lady."

Lady Mary stood and presented Mrs. Hughes with a row of small buttons down the back of her dress. Mrs. Hughes suppressed a sigh. Not the first dress she'd helped with tonight.

"Are you alright Mrs. Hughes?" ask Lady Mary as Mrs. Hughes began on her corset.

"I'm sorry, I supposed I'm just a little tired," a bold-faced lie, but what else could she say?

"Don't worry about it. I think we all are. Did you enjoy the concert?"

Truly at the time Mrs. Hughes had enjoyed the concert enormously, but now the memory of Dame Nellies beautiful arias was marred with knowledge of the horror going on below stairs. It was difficult to recall the songs without imagining the screams and the sobs of Anna.

"She had a lovely voice," said Mrs. Hughes sincerely, for that was perfectly true.

Lady Mary smiled, "She did, didn't she? I'm so glad she came, it really finished things off nicely."

Mrs. Hughes forced a smile, "Indeed m'lady. Will that be all?"

"Yes, I can manage from here."

"Good night Lady Mary," said Mrs. Hughes sweeping out of the room.

"Good night Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary called after her.

* * *

_Anna excused herself from the breakfast table without having touched a bite. Mr. Bates frowned in concern; he could not understand why she was being like this. He leaned over to Mrs. Hughes. "How was Anna the night you lent her that dress?"_

_"How should she be?" asked Mrs. Hughes, turning the question back on him._

_"She told me she'd fallen and cut her lip but I wondered if it might be more serious than that. She's always one to minimize things."_

_"I'm sure I don't know anything you don't know."_

She'd managed to deflect Mr. Bates' questions well at breakfast, rather too well she thought glumly. Clearly Anna had not told him. Mrs. Hughes had doubted she would, not after how determined she'd been the night before.

It was instinct more than anything that prompted Mrs. Hughes to go see Mr. Gillingham's departure. An instinct that had formed a worrisome knot in the pit of her stomach. Mr. Carson would be there supervising of course, there was really no need, but she felt compelled nevertheless…

_"Well Mr. Gillingham I hope you haven't forgotten anything."_

_"On the contrary Mr. Carson I shall remember this visit for a long time to come." _

There was something in his voice that made Mrs. Hughes skin prickle. An image suddenly appeared in her mind unbidden: one of the valet sneaking back into the great hall at the very end of Dame Nellies performance.

That wretched miserable bastard.

Mrs. Hughes felt her hands ball up at her sides, clenched in unchecked anger. How dare he? If looks could kill he would have keeled over on the spot. Instead, she glared in silence as he strode away towards the front of the house.

_She looks positively livid, _thought Mr. Carson, catching a glimpse of the housekeeper across the driveway. _What on earth brought that on? _

Mr. Carson moved to ask her what was wrong and hesitated. He would never admit to ever being frightened of Mrs. Hughes but the look on her face now _did_ give him pause. Just when he'd made up his mind to speak with her she spun on her heel and stalked off towards the house.

_Something's got her goat, make no mistake, _Mr. Carson thought. He would have to ask her about it later, he had work to do.

* * *

_Anna appeared in the doorway of Mrs. Hughes sitting room, her face drawn. "You're busy," she said taking note of Mr. Carson._

_"No no no, I'll say goodnight," protested Mr. Carson. _

_"Good night Mr. Carson," said Mrs. Hughes, ushering Anna in._

As Mr. Carson paced down the hall he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was amiss and he was certain it had something to do with Anna. She was quite upset, that much was clear, but why? Mr. Carson pondered it carefully as he made his way to his pantry.

Perhaps she'd had a falling out with Mr. Bates? He had seen her be quite short with him today. Then again she'd been quite short with everyone, who could tell? That just wouldn't do, having a quarrelling married couple on the staff. There was a reason servants weren't supposed to be married; it caused awful upsets when things went wrong. Anna and Mr. Bates though? After everything they had been through it seemed so strange that things would fall apart now.

He was reminded of the look of fury on Mrs. Hughes face that morning; could that possibly have something to do with it? Something she heard or saw? Mrs. Hughes would have more answers than he Mr. Carson decided. He resolved to wait and ask her about it when Anna had gone up. It would be an awkward conversation and Mr. Carson was not at all looking forward to it, but it had to be done.

Until then he went to inspect the tea service, something to take his mind off the matter until he could garner more information. Then they would decide what to do.

* * *

**A/N The show left it strangely ambiguous as to when and how Mrs. Hughes identifies Green as the culprit, though by the time he leaves she clearly knows. I kind of fancy the idea that Anna never actually had to tell her outright, that Mrs. Hughes just puts one and two together and they have this intrinsic understanding.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N This story is proving very cathartic to write, which comes as a surprise to me. It also means I run the risk of projecting my (apparently still repressed) issues onto Elsie and if I am I do apologize. Hopefully you will find that she is still in character. **

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

_"But suppose you're with child, what will you do then?"_

_"I'll kill myself."_

_"I won't listen to that."_

* * *

She'd promised her a room in the house as requested. She had no reason to deny her one if that was her wish, but she wanted with all her heart for Anna to reconsider. Mr. Bates would never understand it, the poor man. Never in her life had Mrs. Hughes felt so utterly helpless.

She collapsed in her chair, the weight of the entire situation hitting her properly for the first time. Ten minutes ago she'd sat in that very same spot and exchanged kind words with Mr. Carson about Alice. She'd been so pleased to speak with him that evening, something to take her mind off the day, not to mention off Mr. Bates and Anna.

Anna.

It was well known that Mrs. Hughes had a soft spot for a few of the maids but Anna was probably the most treasured of them all. Protective didn't even begin to describe how Mrs. Hughes felt about her. It was all terribly unfair. How was it that such a wicked person as Green could come along and wholly ruin the girls hard-won happiness and walk away without consequence? There was no recourse she could see, not with Anna refusing to tell a soul. There was nothing to be done but stand by and watch the maid's marriage with Mr. Bates fall to pieces along with the rest of her.

_God above please let there be no child. _Mrs. Hughes had rarely prayed with as much vigor as she did then. _Please, Lord please. _She knew deep in her heart that Anna had been serious about her threat to end her life. A baby would certainly be more than the girl could bear.

There were so many things that might push her over the edge and so little Mrs. Hughes could do about any of them. She'd pondered every course of action but each time it led nowhere. There was nothing for it.

_How dare Green lay a finger on her? How dare he, how dare he, how dare he!_

Mrs. Hughes cradled her head in her hands and the words rolled around in her mind, over and over. Hot bitter tears spilled down her cheeks and she let herself have her moment of despair. All alone in her sitting room Mrs. Hughes wept, for Anna, or Mr. Bates or simply for the injustice of the whole thing.

It was this moment that Mr. Carson burst through the door so intent on his concerns that he didn't stop to knock.

"Mrs. Hughes we really must do something about- "

He stopped short at the sight of Mrs. Hughes weeping. What had happened?! Mrs. Hughes jumped to her feet and tried to conceal away her tears but it was too late.

She had fully expected him to stammer an apology and leave the room as quickly as possible, instead he approached her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Mrs. Hughes," he said in his deep tones, "what's happened?"

Crying women were not exactly Mr. Carson's strong point but this was different. Elsie Hughes did not go to pieces over just anything, something must be terribly wrong.

"Oh it's nothing, I'm sorry."

"It's not nothing," he insisted, "what is wrong?"

Mrs. Hughes tried to protest but only stifled sobs came out. She had let the floodgates open when she thought she was alone and now there was no stopping it. Mr. Carson thought his heart might break in two. He held his arms out to her and she collapsed into him, her head buried in his chest. If her mind had been clear it might have registered embarrassment at been seen by him so upset, but instead she simply took comfort in his warm embrace.

He held her there for several minutes while she cried, patting her back and whispering soothing words into her ear.

"There there, it'll be alright. I'm right here and everything is going to be alright."

Her tears seeped into his dress shirt, but she didn't pull away. He squeezed her slightly, trying to be the support she so dearly needed. Whatever it was, she needed him and he would be there for her. It did not occur to him then that this hug was the most he'd ever touched her in fifteen years. The idea that maybe it wasn't proper didn't even cross his mind, full as it was with the desire to ease her pain.

When her sobbing had subsided he helped he down into her chair and handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she whispered drying her eyes and wiping her nose.

"Mrs. Hughes?" he pressed again gently.

"It's not my secret to tell," she said.

Mr. Carson cupped her hands in his, "Mrs. Hughes clearly it has upset you greatly. Surly it would help to get it off your chest."

"Be that as it may, I just... I just can't."

"Is this about Anna?"

Mrs. Hughes pressed her lips together. She didn't trust herself to speak.

She didn't have to; her eyes told him that he had found the mark. But she wouldn't be like this over a lovers quarrel between two of the staff. Something else must have happened, something more sinister. Mr. Carson remembered the cuts on Anna's face from her 'fainting spell' and grew nervous.

"Did someone hurt Anna?"

"Please stop," said Mrs. Hughes, her voice cracking. "I'd rather not play guessing games, too much as been said already."

"Alright," Mr. Carson conceded. "But is there anything I can do?"

"You've done it," she sniffed, "and I'm afraid I've gone and … and blubbered all over your handsome shirt."

"Never mind the shirt," said Mr. Carson, "are you going to be alright?"

"I will," she assured him smoothing her dress, "Sometimes one just needs a good cry, that's all."

That much Mr. Carson could understand. Seeing that she was somewhat recovered he relaxed, though in the back of his mind the wheels were spinning madly trying to deceiver the mystery of her grief. It hurt slightly that she didn't feel she could share it with him, but he supposed she had her reasons.

He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, "well, if you ever need to talk…or just cry…my door is always open."

"That's kind," a faint hint of a smile graced her lips, "but perhaps knock next time mine is shut?"

The inflection in her voice indicated that she was teasing but Mr. Carson blushed anyways. Mrs. Hughes chuckled and their gloomy spirits lifted, if only a little bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thank you to Kat for reminding me about this conversation between Anna and Carson. **

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

_"Anna? Could you tell Lady Mary that Lord Gillingham is here," Mr. Carson's request cut Anna's conversation with her husband short._

_Anna's eyes filled with anxiety, "Lord Gillingham? But we just saw him in London."_

_Mr. Carson didn't see the point of such a statement. "Well, he's come back," he said matter-of-factly._

_"Is his valet with him?" Mr. Carson looked taken aback by this and Anna stumbled on, "I mean is he staying? She'll want to know."_

_"He doesn't seem to be. Now, will you give her the message please? _

Anna's responses had struck him as odd. Throughout the entire conversation he thought she was about to break down in tears. And why on earth had her first thought been about his valet? Carson had grown quite concerned about the girl and this only exacerbated it further. He'd been deliberately trying to go easy on her today, in light of her troubles that he still couldn't puzzle out, but how strenuous could delivering a simple message be? He didn't think he'd been asking anything very demanding of her. Unless Mr. Gillingham himself was the source of her unhappiness…

He considered running it by Mrs. Hughes, but thought better of it. She'd been rather insistent the other night and he didn't want to push his luck with her. Still, he ought to inform her of Mr. Gillinghams arrival, there was no reason he couldn't do that now.

As he approached her sitting room out of it emerged a very beleaguered looking Tom Branson.

"Mr. Branson," he acknowledged.

"Mr. Carson," Branson muttered, taking off down the hall.

"What the devil is the matter with _him_?" he said, eyeing Mrs. Hughes suspiciously.

"Don't. Ask." she said, rolling her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing really, I just thought I'd let you know that Lord Gillingham is here, but - um - I don't believe he will be staying."

Mrs. Hughes blinked, keeping her face convincingly neutral. "I see. So his valet is not with him then?"

Mr. Carson frowned at her. "Anna was just asking after him, now you."

"Anna was asking after Lord Gillinghams valet?"

"Yes, after I gave her the message to tell Lady Mary he was here."

Of course, where else would her mind have gone? Mrs. Hughes wished she'd been the one to tell Anna and saved her the fright, even for a split second, that that evil man was back in the house.

"She said she only wanted to know because she wanted to tell Lady Mary if Lord Gillingham was staying…" Mr. Carson didn't sound convinced, "but then you asked about him as well."

Mrs. Hughes gave a perfunctory smile, "What a coincidence. Anyways-"

Mr. Carson cut her off sternly: "Mrs. Hughes I hope if there were something about the staff member or guest of this house that I needed to know you would tell me."

Mrs. Hughes mentally went through the list of things she hadn't told him about in the last few days. Anna, Edna and Branson, Daisy and Alfred (though that one was clear as day to anyone with eyes) – it seemed everyone was in the middle of something or another. But she had it all under control; there was really no need to involve him.

"Yes, of course I would!" she said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world, "Now would you let me get on?" She had things to do, Edna's bedroom to search for starters.

Mr. Carson watched as she strode purposefully down the hall. There was something weighing on her, but if she refused to let him shoulder the burden with her that was her choice.

* * *

She had been quite harsh on Edna, not that the manipulative little devil hadn't deserve it. Say what you will about Miss. O'Brian, she never slept with and subsequently blackmailed, any member of the family. What a piece of work.

Still, Mrs. Hughes knew she'd walked a thin line in her handling of the maid's dismissal. Not that she was ashamed of her bluff, the book hidden in Edna's room had been a real stroke of luck and Mrs. Hughes had used it to full advantage. On the other hand, threatening to strip the clothing off her and hold her down while the doctor examined her was probably over the line.

Mrs. Hughes sighed. Having a temper was one thing, losing control of it was something else altogether.

She heard Mr. Carson's voice echo down the hallway. She couldn't make out the words but they sounded fairly good-natured. She smiled to herself, remembering back to their previous conversation about Alice. It had been so lovely to hear a little of his youth, when he'd been a "young man so full of passion" as he so charmingly put it.

He was still that man as far a she was concerned, even if age and authority had tempered him somewhat. Every now and then she got pleasant little glimpse into the real Charles Carson and she treasured it. Regardless of how chaotic things in the house became she could always count on him to be steady. Frankly, not bringing him into the fold on the business with Anna and Bates was proving to be quite beneficial for her emotionally. He was available as a safe and warm distraction to her stormy thoughts.

_Everyone should be so lucky, _she thought to herself. It was impossible to think he would so freely share is heart with the rest of the staff, and truthfully she cherished the idea that there was piece of him only she had the privilege to see.

_But perhaps…_

* * *

The picture frame had taken some work to find, buried as it was in a box of her old possessions. She took great joy in hunting for it and polishing it up. There was a relief that came with putting her energy into something positive for her dearest friend instead of dealing with the crises of others. She even had the audacity to slip into his pantry and filch the photograph of Alice off his desk. She justified this small act of trespassing by pretending she only wished to see if the picture would fit in the frame.

It did of course. She decided she would leave the photograph in, thinking the full effect would make it nicer for him to open. She would give it to him tonight so it was unlikely that he would miss it. Mrs. Hughes felt decidedly pleased with herself as she wrapped it up carefully in white tissue paper. She tucked it away in her desk with a smile.

It had been a gift for him. Only when she'd happily finished her task did she realize it had been a gift for her as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I may have misled some of you with that last chapter into thinking there was an adorable picture frame scene coming, which there is not. Other than her motivation for giving the frame (and the moment of satisfaction preparing it gave her) there was no tie-in with the theme of this story so we'll move on. **

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

_"There can be no break from it." _

Mrs. Hughes had let Anna have a room again, but not Miss Braithwaite's old one as suggested. Instead she put her in the empty room adjacent to her own, as her small way of keeping tabs on her. She didn't care if she was being transparent; she wanted to show Anna her support, somehow. The girl had been avoiding her and Mrs. Hughes had the sneaking suspicion that her very presence was serving as a reminder of that dreadful night. It pained her greatly to be such a source of discomfort; it was opposite of everything she'd ever wanted to be. She let Anna have her space and when she heard her crying through the paper-thin walls she knew better than to push in.

This night was different. Instead of sobs, shrieks echoed though the corridor and Mrs. Hughes flew out of bed like a shot. She threw her red and white housecoat over her nightgown and hurried next door.

Despite sitting upright Anna was still very much asleep, imprisoned in her nightmare. Mrs. Hughes shut and locked the door behind her, lest unwanted prying eyes were to appear. There was no need to have more witnesses than necessary.

"Wake up Anna, it's alright. You're dreaming, it's alright," Mrs. Hughes comforting Scottish tones shook Anna out of her terrified slumber. Anna's shrieks dissolved into tears and her breath came in small, violent bursts.

Mrs. Hughes noticed a small spot of blood on Anna's nightgown and for a confused moment thought she'd cut herself on something. Then she noticed the pile of clean rags folded neatly beside the bed and comprehension dawned on her. In the midst of Anna's misery Mrs. Hughes felt a glimmer of relief: there would be no baby. Thank God.

Now was not the time to comment so Mrs. Hughes kept her observation to herself as she rubbed Anna's back. Slowly Anna started to calm down.

"Hush now lassie, it's alright."

"Please go away." Anna pushed Mrs. Hughes hands roughly away and curled up in a little ball.

"Anna-" she protested.

"PLEASE, Mrs. Hughes, please go away."

The first coherent sentence the girl could manage was to dismiss her; Mrs. Hughes couldn't help but feel hurt. Once again she had no choice but to respect the poor girls wishes, much as she wanted to defy them.

"I'm always here if you need me dear," she said softly. Anna didn't respond, except to curl herself tighter into a ball. Heart aching, Mrs. Hughes retreated.

When she stepped out into the hall she was met by the inquisitive faces of about half the female staff. They must have heard the shrieking, but at least they'd had the good sense to wait outside.

"There is nothing to see here. Go back to bed," she said firmly. Her eyes said it all and no one questioned her instruction. She stood watch at Anna's door until the last of them had returned to their rooms.

Resignedly she decided to go downstairs. She could have gone back to bed, but she thought a cup of tea might suit better at a time like this. It would be several hours before the kitchen maids were up so she'd have the kitchen to herself.

She was just to the top of the stairs when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Everything alright Mrs. Hughes? Only, I heard a commotion in the ladies wing." It was Mr. Carson. How did he always manage to turn up in these moments? She thought she probably looked a sorry sight, clad in her flannel housecoat with her hair half falling out of its braid. Mr. Carson, bless him, thought no such thing as he took in her red eyes and weary expression.

"It's fine, I've dealt with it. Anna had a nightmare."

"I see."

"I was going to have a cup of tea before going back to bed," she said by means of an explanation.

"Just the thing for frayed nerves. Would you like some company?"

She opened her mouth to refuse him, but remembered how dreadful she'd felt moments before when Anna had sent her away instead of letting her comfort her. Here he was, just trying to do the same thing for her.

"If you'd like," she said half-heartedly, "it is rather late. Perhaps you'd rather go back to bed?" There. She'd not refused him outright, but she had given him an out if he wanted it.

"Not just yet. Tea first." It was settled and they descended to the kitchens in silence. As she went about putting the kettle on he waited for her to speak first. Eventually it became clear to him she wasn't going to.

"Why has Anna moved back into the house?" he said finally. As if he could crack open her iron-clad façade with sheer bluntness.

"You would have to ask her that," said Mrs. Hughes flatly.

"Why do I get the feeling that I shouldn't?"

"Because you are a clever man." She'd complimented him, but it didn't sound very much like a compliment. He made a low guttural sound in his throat and returned his attention to his tea.

There was another lengthy pause. She'd wanted very much to accept his comfort but was finding it increasingly difficult. She couldn't tell him anything and she wasn't about to break down crying again. Once had been more than enough, thank you very much. She studied the floral design on the side of her cup as if it were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

She replayed Anna's reaction to her in her mind. _Please go away. Please Mrs. Hughes, please go away._

Anna rejecting her comfort had made her feel strangely lost. If she couldn't help the young woman she loved most through the worst time of her life what did that make her?

A failure, that's what.

Her feelings of frustration and self-pity were quickly overwhelmed by insatiable guilt. How dare she feel sorry for her self? After everything Anna had been through, what right did she have to be frustrated or upset?

Meanwhile Mr. Carson was patiently trying to think of another angle he might try to get her to open up. Mrs. Hughes found herself tremendously irritated. The tea was supposed to calm her, not wind her up even tighter. She finished her beverage as quickly as she could manage, practically tipping the entire cup into her mouth to do so.

"Thank you for the company Mr. Carson, goodnight."

"Good night," he called forlornly after her as she disappeared up the stairs. He didn't know what to make of her ever-shifting moods. _Perhaps I should have just left her alone, _he thought unhappily as he finished his tea.

* * *

_"My life is perfect and then in the space of one day it is nothing. To me that requires explanation." _

It was the third morning in a row she'd walked by Mr. Bates standing at the bottom of the stairs, awaiting Anna. He'd tried to arrange his features to appear hopeful, but Mrs. Hughes secretly thought he looked more desperate by the day. It was killing him that she had withdrawn from him, without a lick of explanation. She longed to pull him aside and set him straight, but she dare not. It had to be from his wife.

_What's the matter Elsie? You've never had any trouble sticking your nose in before._

A cruel little voice taunted her. It stung because it had a ring of truth to it. She'd never hesitated to meddle in the lives of the staff if she thought it might do them some good. Besides, it almost always worked out well. It was part of what made her such an excellent housekeeper, this ability to twist and turn the knobs in her colleague's lives. Occasionally they even thanked her for it.

She doubted very much Anna would thank her for telling Mr. Bates about this. Never forgive her as long as she lived, more like.

But, how she longed for Anna to be honest with him! It was breaking his heart and he didn't deserve that. She'd implored Anna to tell him on several occasions only to be met with the same excuses about how she was protecting her husband from himself. How very much like Anna to put his safety above all else. She'd come to this miserable decision before Mrs. Hughes had even discovered her in her sitting room.

_"If he knew he'd murder the man who's done it and then he'd be hanged."_

She didn't like to admit it, but Anna's argument did have some traction. Mr. Bates was capable of great anger and nothing would be more likely to set him off than this. But surely they could temper his anger, if it came out in the right way. His love for his wife could be channeled into her healing instead of his revenge, couldn't it?

Even if it could, she was not the one to do it. It was a mistake not to tell him, of that she was sure, but it might be just as much a mistake for it to come from her. Perhaps with time Anna would come round. In the mean time she would make the maid's excuses when she fled from the servants hall or jumped at routine noises. As housekeeper she was in the best position to smooth things over at least, so there was that. She would have to find a way to kept Mr. Bates from losing hope in his beloved. He was a patient and dedicated man, but no person could keep up hope forever.

She knew she couldn't.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N A great deal of the time I appreciate what the show decides to leave to our imaginations. This scene between Mrs. Hughes and Bates was certainly one of those times, but I wrote it up anyways. **

**The past five chapters have sparked some incredibly insightful (and very kind) reviews. Thank you so much to all of you for your words/favourites/follows. It's nice to have you on this journey with me. **

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

_"If you will not let me hear the truth I will hand in my resignation now and be gone before she gets back."_

Mr. Bates had cornered her into telling him and they both knew it. She did not enjoy being manipulated so, but a small part of her did understand why he'd done it. The man was at his wits end.

She had so desperately wanted him to know that his wife had not stopped loving him, but not like this. Her personal opinion on the matter was nothing compared to Anna's trust that she was about to break.

"It is difficult to begin," she said slowly.

"It's more difficult **not knowing **Mrs. Hughes."

"That is enough," she shot back, "you're going to need a lot more patience than that if we are to get through this miserable business."

Mr. Bates winced at her biting tone. "Mrs. Hughes, I'm sorry. Take your time."

Mrs. Hughes swallowed hard, pushing her emotions down deep. "Thank you."

She had to tell him the truth, but maybe not the whole truth. Anna couldn't lie to him but perhaps she could. Her mind spun trying to figure out how to phrase it in order to avoid mentioning Mr. Green's name. He would suspect him, she was sure. She would need another culprit. A stranger, someone he couldn't possibly track down and seek revenge on. That would be best.

"Anna was…attacked."

"What?"

Mentioning it aloud made it real for her once more and the memories flooded her mind. The shock of finding Anna in her sitting room, the desperation in the poor girls voice, the sad soulless look behind her eyes.

"Someone broke in, a stranger, and he cornered her in the boot room," her hands were trembling, but her voice was steady. He needed to hear it and she needed him to believe it.

"I'm afraid he hurt her very badly Mr. Bates… in every possible way."

Mr. Bates seemed to grow smaller with each passing word. The grim determination he had entrapped her with had slipped away, replaced with stunned sadness.

"You mean…you mean he…"

"Yes," said Mrs. Hughes, saving him from the difficulty of voicing it. "He did."

They sat in silence while that sank in. Mr. Bates hung his head. She paused, knowing that no words of comfort would make it any better.

"Do you understand why she can't let you touch her? And why you cannot leave her now?"

"Yes, I do." He lifted his head and his anger came with it. "I must know who has done this."

"I told you, a man broke in and waited down here." The more she firmly repeated it the more sure she was of her lie.

"How did he know? That she would be alone down here, that she would be vulnerable?" The initial shock he'd felt at her confession was drowned in his fury.

"I reckon he didn't, that he happened upon her by chance."

"Chance…" He couldn't even look at her anymore, his eyes burning a hole in the floor.

Mrs. Hughes was desperately eager to end their conversation before he had the chance to pry open the whole truth. "Well, that's all of it," she said with an air of finality.

* * *

It had not been all of it and somehow by the end she was swearing on her mother's grave of the truth of her words. _Lord forgive me. _She wasn't even entirely certain he believed her, so perhaps it would all be for naught. She had tried her best, but that was little comfort to her now.

She couldn't bring herself to be angry with Mr. Bates, no matter how mercilessly he'd pressed her for details. His hurt and guilt had been palatable, even if it had manifested as anger. Besides, he had every right to be angry_. Probably more right than I do,_ she thought, _she is his wife_.

If she was being honest with herself his anger had frightened her. Bringing another person into the fold should have given Mrs. Hughes an ally in her grief, but it seemed she had gained a sparring partner instead. Instead of commiserating together over the ordeal, their conversation been almost hostile and Mrs. Hughes felt more alone than ever. _That is what happens when you tell half-truths_, she supposed.

Something else was weighing on her: how would Anna ever forgive her for breaking her confidence? Mrs. Hughes dealt in the commodity of trust and feared she'd lost a great deal that day. It would be better for Anna, surely, that he knew. She had every confidence in Mr. Bates as a loving and supportive husband, but she did not delude herself into thinking that Anna would be happy to know Mrs. Hughes had told him.

At least she had not stooped so low as to ask Mr. Bates to deny her role in telling him. She had far too much respect for Anna to do that. She would know it had been her without a doubt; there was only more dignity to lose if they'd denied it.

She told herself that she didn't regret it. That Anna hating her would be a small price to pay for keeping Mr. Bates from leaving at such an important time. She had done right by Anna, even if Anna would never see it that way. That was what she must to hold onto.

Mrs. Hughes spent the rest of the day feeling shaken. Surely the staff would have noticed, but they seemed oblivious to her plight. She caught her reflection in the kitchen window and frowned at the sad old woman staring back at her. Surely she didn't always look this way? She tried smiling in the glass, but it looked so forced that it only seemed to make things worse.

* * *

She hid in her sitting room for the better part of the evening. Anyone looking in on her would have thought she was busy writing up the day cards or sorting out the store cupboard ledger, but in truth she hadn't lifted her pen in hours. Her mind skittered around, leaving her unable to focus on anything properly.

Later that evening Mr. Carson knocked at the door. "Might I come in?" he asked.

"Of course." She wasn't sure if she was happy or sad to see him. After their awkward midnight tea party she'd been purposefully avoiding him.

"I thought I'd check in and see how you were doing today." Something patronizing in his tone made her bristle.

"Well as you can see I'm _fine_ thank you very much Mr. Carson," she said curtly. She refused to meet his eye as she said it, staring instead at the untouched store cupboard ledger.

"You don't look fine Mrs. Hughes." The words hadn't come out quite right and he cringed. She glared at him.

"If you are going to be unpleasant Mr. Carson, kindly leave. I've no patience for it."

Carson winced. Now he'd done it. He scolded himself for not anticipating how defensive she might be. This wasn't at all how he'd meant for this conversation to go.

"I didn't mean in like that, I just thought you looked …tired today. And that you might want to …talk about it?"

"How flattering. As you know discussing my apparent exhaustion is my favourite activity."

Her tone was unyielding and Carson felt his patience with her fading. _She's hurting _he reminded himself, _just because she won't tell you why doesn't mean she isn't._

Carson swallowed his frustration and tried to make peace: "now I didn't mean to make you cross. In fact I came here because I've brought something."

"Oh?"

A book appeared out of his jacket pocket. "I thought it might cheer you up," he said cautiously.

"Who says I need cheering up?" It's seemed she was determined not to make this easy. So be it. She knew she was being rude, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

Mr. Carson took a deep steadying breath and fixed her with a firm stare. "Really Mrs. Hughes."

Her face softened a little and she bit her lip. He was right, even if she wasn't keen to admit it. "What is it then?" she relented.

Pleased that he'd broken down something of the wall she'd built, he handed her the novel. "Rillia of Ingleside," he said, "A recent addition to his lordships library."

"L. M. Montgomery," she said turning the book over in her hands. She hadn't read this one yet; it seemed to be quite new.

"Fresh off the press I believe, " said Mr. Carson, confirming her suspicions, "I knew you'd enjoyed the others, so I thought you might like it."

She had indeed enjoyed the others, though she wasn't sure she'd ever mentioned it to him before. Perhaps he'd noticed them on lying on her desk and figured it out. He was much more observant of her than she gave him credit for.

"That's very kind of you Mr. Carson, thank you," she said quietly. It wasn't the apology he deserved but it served just as well.

The stood in silence for a moment and Mr. Carson regarded her carefully. She stared down at the book in her hands, fighting an inward battle. There was nothing she wanted more than to open her mouth and surrender her sorrows at his feet, but she couldn't. She wouldn't.

"I can see you don't wish to talk Mrs. Hughes so I'll take my leave."

He turned for the door. She couldn't help herself.

"Wait!" she burst out, "would you stay?"

He looked at her quizzically. "I thought you didn't want to-"

"I don't," she clarified. "I don't want to talk, but I was wondering if you might…stay anyways. And…sit with me."

Her eyes pleaded with him and he was more than happy to grant her unusual request. "Certainly Mrs. Hughes, I brought a book of my own if you'd care to read with me."

Her shoulders sagged with relief. He wasn't mad at her and he wasn't leaving her to stew alone.

They sat in silence on either side of her small table, reading their books by candlelight. There would be no more prying, no more cross words exchanged. She delved into her book with purpose and for the first time in a long time she was able to escape. The words on the page took her out of her sitting room, out of Downton Abbey and out of England entirely. It was an easy read for her, almost childish in its simplicity, but at that moment in time it was perfect. They read together for hours, lost in their own little worlds. Several times Carson considered suggesting they head to bed, but every time he looked over she had this contented little look on her face and he thought better of it. _Let her have it, _he thought to himself, _we could stay a few minutes more_.

When the candle had all but burned down Carson noticed her eyes fluttering. She was barely awake and no wonder, it was well past midnight. Gently he pried the book out of her limp hands and placed it on the table.

"Come now," he murmured, helping her to her feet. She was too drowsy to formulate a reply and she let him guide her upstairs. She leaned heavily on him as they went, tired as she was. It was dreadfully late and there was no one about to see them, so Carson didn't see the harm in it. Besides, they were dear friends; it didn't have to mean anything.

When they'd reached the door to the women's side he let her go. She turned to him as if to say something, but in her exhaustion no words came. Their eyes locked, hers filled with unspoken appreciation. Not thinking too much he pressed his lips to her forehead and bestowed upon her a comforting kiss. It was a sweet and innocent gesture, like the kiss a father gives his daughter when she is distressed, but an overly familiar gesture nonetheless.

She didn't seem to mind. On the contrary she gave him a sleepy delirious smile, the first genuine smile he'd seen from her all day, and then shuffled off to bed.

* * *

Mrs. Hughes awoke feeling lighter than she had in days, despite getting such a short sleep. Her memory of the previous evening was slightly foggy. She remembered reading with Mr. Carson, but she couldn't remember how she got upstairs to her bedroom. Perhaps she managed it simply on autopilot, but she could have sworn he'd been there. Yes, he had walked her up and…and he had kissed her? On the forehead? She wasn't sure if that had been in reality or a fuzzy dream.

_It's not like I can very well ask him can I? _She thought to herself smiling. _Can you imagine his face if I were wrong? _

She put the silly notion out of her mind; she was going to miss breakfast if she didn't hurry.

* * *

_"Mr. Bates! I'm so glad to see you. Anna's told me what's gone on between you and it's made me happier than I can say to think it's all over and done with." _

_"Nothings over and done with Mrs. Hughes." _

Her face fell as he walked away. The relief that she had felt at Anna's decision to move back into the cottage and put the worst of it behind her was cut dramatically short at Mr. Bates pronouncement. She had a sinking feeling that he was going to do something incredibly reckless.

Why couldn't he just let the matter drop? It would be better for Anna surely. She chewed her bottom lip in frustration. Mr. Bates was walking a dangerous tightrope with Green and Anna, to be sure. She would watch and she would wait, bracing herself for whatever was to come of it. She didn't know what that might be, but she was certain she had not heard the end of it.

* * *

**Of course we all know that Mrs. Hughes is correct so there will be more chapters to come. Thank you for making your way through this particularly long one. I may need to go hide from some of you after that intentionally thrown away forehead kiss. It was intended as an innocent nicety… loving and much needed, but innocent. He's a wonderful friend, that Mr. Carson. **

**-K**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N The scene between Mrs. Hughes and Mary in this chapter was the particularly difficult to write. I have trouble with the r-word, but it needed to be there.**

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

_"His lordship is going to America."_

_"So, you mean you have to go to?"_

_"I can't leave Anna Mrs. Hughes, not now."_

America. His lordship was going to America on a moments notice. Well, that certainly threw a wrench in things. Mr. Bates was absolutely right; he could not leave Anna now. The poor man was practically shaking with emotion in the middle of her sitting room.

"Have you told Mr. Carson?"

"I came straight to you. But I'm sure he's seen the telegram, he knows I must go."

Mrs. Hughes nodded her understanding. Her mind raced through the possibilities; there had to be some way around Mr. Bates leaving.

"I'll just tell his lordship that I won't go, simple as that."

"You will do no such thing! Go and pack his lordships things and I will sort it out."

Mr. Bates still didn't look any happier. "Mrs. Hughes he's leaving _today_."

"Then we will have to act fast. Go on now, you have much to do. Leave it to me and I'll think of something."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Bates said dolefully, making his exit.

_Oh ye of little faith, _she thought to herself ruefully. Flat out refusing would only lose Mr. Bates his position. Surely he knew that, but she supposed he wasn't thinking straight at a time like this. _Luckily for him there is more than one way to skin a cat_.

The male staff members were not her jurisdiction and she pondered bringing in Mr. Carson to help her come up with an excuse. They could invent a family emergency for him perhaps? Or some sort of illness? Mrs. Hughes always thought that lying about family emergencies was the worst possible way one could tempt fate. Mr. Bates would probably take offence to pretending to be injured or ill and Mrs. Hughes could hardly blame him for that. Not to mention they'd have to manipulate Dr. Clarkson as well and it would all become far too complicated to have any hope of success.

Mr. Carson might be able to insist Mr. Bates was needed at Downton for some benign household reason, though what that could be she could not envision. And she would have to tell him the truth. All of it, if he was to help her, and once she did there was no guarantee of what he might do with the information. The man was a terrible liar and he refused on principal to lie to the family. No, for this, Mr. Carson would not do.

She needed somebody else capable of persuading Lord Grantham to leave Mr. Bates behind.

She needed somebody that she could trust with Anna's secret.

She needed somebody manipulative enough and clever enough to talk his lordship into it without revealing why.

She needed Lady Mary.

Lady Mary probably had her own suspicions about Anna by now anyways and Mrs. Hughes could give easily give her the same story she'd fed Mr. Bates if she had to. Of everyone in the house Lady Mary was easily the most likely to succeed. Arranging a meeting would be easy to, she would offer to take up her breakfast tray and tackle it then.

Mrs. Hughes may not have held a very high opinion of Lady Mary, but today she would be the best collaborator the housekeeper could have possibly hoped for.

* * *

_"If you wish to enlist my help, I must know the facts."_

"Very well m'lady."

Mary looked a Mrs. Hughes expectantly, gratified that her power play had worked. Mrs. Hughes had, in her eternal optimism, tried to convince Lady Mary to have Bates remain without revealing anything at all. She hadn't truly thought it would work, but at least she'd tried.

"Anna has been going through a bit of trouble…"

Mary furrowed her brow, "what kind of trouble exactly?"

Saying it for the second time should have been easier. Even more so because Lady Mary was calm and considerably less volatile than Mr. Bates, not to mention far easier to lie to. Even with all of this Mrs. Hughes still struggled to compose herself. Her heart rate quickened and her chest felt uncomfortably tight.

The changes in the housekeeper's demeanour were not lost on Mary. "Mrs. Hughes would you like to sit down?"

She did feel a little bit light headed. "Yes, thank you m'lady."

Sitting helped somewhat and made the conversation a touch less formal now that they were both at eye-level.

"Perhaps you've noticed the change in Anna m'lady?"

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't. But she seemed so much better lately and she moved back into the cottage. I assumed whatever it was had resolved."

"It has some, but it's not quite that simple."

"You are being very mysterious Mrs. Hughes. What on earth has happened to Anna that requires her husband by her side at every minute?"

The callousness Mary's voice told Mrs. Hughes that time for stalling had come and gone. Now was time for cold, clinical facts. Mrs. Hughes did not share in the opinion that women were weak, overly sensitive beings that needed coddling. Lady Mary Crawley least of all.

"She was raped m'lady."

If Mrs. Hughes had been able to look anywhere other than the floor as she spoke those terrible terrible words she would have seen Lady Mary's stunned expression.

"Oh my God."

Mrs. Hughes remained silent, bracing herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

"How …how did this happen? And when? And who?!"

"During the house party, someone broke in downstairs, a ruffian or a burglar of some sort. Anna went down for some headache powder and…well I've told you the rest."

"Mrs. Hughes, I had no idea. I mean I knew something was wrong but didn't…I thought…"

"I know you didn't," said Mrs. Hughes, not unkindly.

"Why wouldn't she tell me?" Mary's distress was evident, "I asked her several times what was wrong."

"I wouldn't take it personally m'lady, she wouldn't tell anyone."

Mary nodded, but a confused look crossed her face. "Then how did you find out?"

Mrs. Hughes bit her lip, harder than usual. "I was the one…" her voice was cracking again, "I was the one to fetch her a clean dress."

"I see," said Lady Mary closing her eyes in dismay, "and Bates, Bates knows?"

"He does, I told him. Against Anna's wishes. And now I have told you. Also against Anna's wishes."

Lady Mary didn't seem to hear her, already focused on her own role in all this. "I want to help," she said definitively.

"Then convince his lordship to take Thomas as his valet. Let Mr. Bates stay and support his wife."

"Of course I will," said Lady Mary, setting her breakfast tray aside, a woman determined.

"You must not tell him why," Mrs. Hughes implored, "just that Bates must stay here. Do you think you can persuade him?"

"I believe so. I'll go see him the minute I'm dressed," Lady Mary was already pulling the bell to ring for Anna.

"Thank you m'lady. It will mean so much to Anna and to Mr. Bates….and to me."

"Don't mention it. It's the very least I can do, honestly."

Mrs. Hughes nodded solemnly, "I better go before Anna gets here." She had no desire to remain and be forced to explain her presence when Anna arrived.

"Thank you for bringing this to me Mrs. Hughes. Even if Anna didn't want you to, I'm sure she'll understand."

Mrs. Hughes was not optimistic. "I hope you're right m'lady."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N I feel like this chapter reads as somewhat extreme, which is odd as it is one of the ones most rooted in personal truth. But I'll let you decide what you think for yourself dear reader… **

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

"Mrs. Hughes!" Bates kept his voice low, but his excitement was hard to contain. "You've done it!"

She turned to see the valet rushing down the corridor as quickly as his bad leg would allow him. "Lady Mary has convinced him take Thomas instead," he explained when he'd come closer.

Mrs. Hughes noted Thomas straining to hear their conversation from the end of the hall. "Come inside," she instructed him, leading him into her sitting room and out of Thomas' earshot.

"Does Anna know yet?"

"Not yet, I'm just going to tell her now. When I saw you I had to let you know. I never would have thought to use Lady Mary, but it has worked wonders."

Mrs. Hughes, instead of being pleased as Mr. Bates had expected looked decidedly ashamed. "Then you'll know I had to tell her the truth," she said.

"Yes, she said as much to me."

"I'm afraid Anna may be very angry with me Mr. Bates. You will tell her that I'm sorry for breaking her confidence?"

"Yes, of course I will. Mrs. Hughes I should not have doubted you for a second."

_It's Lady Mary one should never doubt_, thought Mrs. Hughes to herself. She was not surprised at Lady Mary's success, nor did she feel particularly relieved. She felt hollow.

Mr. Bates was already at the door, eager to share the good news with his wife. "Cheer up Mrs. Hughes, this is a victory after all."

Mrs. Hughes nodded dully; she did not feel particularly victorious.

Mr. Bates had cornered her into telling him and Mrs. Hughes pinned Anna's begrudging forgiveness on her understanding that. This was different. This had been her own meddling hands at their finest. The betrayal of Anna's trust fell squarely and solely on her shoulders this time. If her relationship with the maid had been difficult before she feared it would be impossible now.

The house was a flurry of activity necessitated by the hasty travel arrangements so Mrs. Hughes did not have the time to be dwelling on Anna. Try as she may to distract herself, her feelings were inescapable. Dread for when she would have to speak with Anna coloured her every action regardless of how efficiently she performed her tasks.

Fortunately enough for Mrs. Hughes this agony of their next meeting was not to last for long. It was before lunch when Anna burst through the door to her sitting room and slammed it behind her.

On Anna's face was a completely unreadable expression. Mrs. Hughes stared at her, unable to discern a single emotion. What she furious with her? Sad? Hurt? Mrs. Hughes, used to being in complete control of situations, found herself entirely unprepared without any sense of the woman in front of her.

She willed herself to speak, to apologize or ask forgiveness or even just to greet this woman that had barged into her room shrouded in such inexplicable emotion. There were so many things she wanted to say to Anna in that moment and for some reason she seemed incapable of voicing a single one.

Apparently she didn't have to. The force with which Anna's body made contact with hers almost knocked the wind from her. Mrs. Hughes found herself receiving the tightest, fiercest hug she'd ever known.

Whatever Mrs. Hughes had been expecting, it had not been THAT.

Stunned, confused and delighted by this turn of events Mrs. Hughes returned the embrace.

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes," Anna whispered into the housekeepers dress.

Mrs. Hughes stroked the maid's hair reflexively, still taken aback by the startling response. It was the precise opposite of what she had expected. Deep in her heart she had hoped for Anna's forgiveness of her transgressions, but had never imagined the possibility of gratitude.

Yet there they were, Anna's tight grip on the older woman not letting up in the slightest. Her appreciation was still pouring from her lips: "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Anna's words were starting to bleed together and her tears had broken free. Very much back in her element Mrs. Hughes rocked her gently, "Hush now, my dear. Shhh."

Anna's tears kept falling, but they were not the anguished ones of her nightmares or her memories. They were ones of a woman overwhelmed by everything life had dealt her and desperately grateful for her friend.

"You've forgiven me? For telling Lady Mary?" Mrs. Hughes daren't believe it. She had to be sure.

Anna nodded vigorously and Mrs. Hughes felt her heart soar. Everything was out in the open and somehow, wonderfully, it was fine. With this revelation all of the distance Anna had placed between them since that night melted away.

For Anna had seen immediately what Mrs. Hughes didn't entirely understand herself: that Mrs. Hughes had placed Anna's welfare above all else. Her love for Anna had been more important than keeping her secret. More important than upholding her promise. More important than preserving their friendship. Mrs. Hughes had been willing to throw that all away just to keep Mr. Bates from leaving her when she needed him most and Anna loved her for it.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hughes." Anna had calmed some, but was clinging tightly to the housekeeper. Mrs. Hughes, who had longed to hug her repeatedly over the past few weeks only to be pushed away each time, could not have minded less.

"What?" She couldn't imagine what Anna was apologizing for.

"I'm so sorry," Anna said, trembling. "For everything."

Mrs. Hughes regarded her kindly, "Anna, you have nothing, absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

"But I do-"

"No," Mrs. Hughes cut her off firmly. "You don't. I promise you, you don't. Understand?"

Anna smiled slightly through her tears, "Yes I understand." Mrs. Hughes beamed back at her.

"Good."

Anna thought for a long moment, trying to phrase her next sentence. "I think… I think I'm going to be all right, Mrs. Hughes. At some point."

There were no words that could have pleased Mrs. Hughes more. Affectionately she cupped Anna's cheek. "I know you will."

The bell for servant's luncheon rung and the two women broke apart. As they walked to the servants hall Mr. Bates caught her eye and gave her a knowing smile. Understanding, gratitude and relief passed wordlessly between them and they went to their meal, united.

* * *

**A/N So, everything in our garden is rosy again. But of course our story will continue...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Here we are folks, Mr. Gillinghams return. When Mrs. Hughes leaves the servant hall it's painfully obvious that she's making a beeline for Anna. Why we didn't get to see that scene is beyond me.**

**Warning: This chapter deals with acute anxiety (from an external perspective). If you are predisposed or sensitive to panic attacks you may wish to skip this one, or choose carefully where and when you read it. No flashbacks. No violent imagery. **

* * *

Chapter 9

* * *

_"I think this is the right place."_

_"Well if it isn't Mr. Gillingham. Welcome back, pull up a chair and sit down."_

_"I suppose you've come to shake us up again?"_

Mrs. Hughes' tea turned bitter in her mouth at the sight of Mr. Green entering the servant hall. It had been a perfectly ordinary day until he'd paraded in, pleased as punch. Her stomach dropped into the floor. How had she not known he was coming? There had been no word from upstairs that there would be guests.

To make matters worse Anna immediately appeared, completely unaware of what she was walking into. Mrs. Hughes watched, helpless from her place at the table, as Anna's entire body tensed. Remarkably she had finished her request of Miss Baxter, but her voice belied her true feelings.

When Anna left Mrs. Hughes forced herself to wait two seconds before rising slowly from her place. It would not do to draw attention, especially with Mr. Bates right beside her. The expression on her face had been harder to contain and Mr. Carson did a double take. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth set in a thin hard line. He knew this face. This face was not a good sign.

He felt deeply unsettled as he watched her leave. There was something about her posture that wasn't right, some unnatural rigidity that wasn't typical of her.

Anna must have broken into a run the minute she was clear of the servant's hall because she wasn't anywhere to be found in the corridor. Mrs. Hughes knew exactly where she'd gone.

_The only place in the house she knows she can lock the door._

Mrs. Hughes took the stairs two at a time up to the servants wing, propelled by the alarm bells sounding in her head. The exertion left her out of breath, but she hardly noticed. Intuition had taken over her mental faculties and created an urgent desire to find Anna as quickly as possible.

When she came upon Anna's former bedroom door she forced herself to slow down. If she was actually inside Mrs. Hughes didn't want to frighten her .

"Anna?"

No response. Gingerly she tried the handle, but as she had suspected the door was locked.

"Anna, it's only me." Still nothing, "I'm going to come in now."

Out came the keys and she unlocked the door with a small click. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob she donned her suit of armour, forged of all the equanimity she possessed.

Mrs. Hughes did not find the distraught woman that she had expected when she walked over the threshold. Anna was perched on her bed, stock still, unblinking. She sat with both hands tucked under her legs, face like a stone statue.

"Anna?" It was gentle, probing question.

Mrs. Hughes bent down to meet Anna's unwavering gaze, but it seemed like the maid was looking right through her. There was no glimmer of recognition that Mrs. Hughes was even present.

Mrs. Hughes thought she would have preferred hysterics. There was something profoundly disturbing about Anna's manner that went beyond her empty expression. It took Mrs. Hughes a moment to realize precisely why this was.

She wasn't breathing.

With this realization came tidal wave of fright for Mrs. Hughes.

"Anna!" she said urgently.

The maid's face was the entirely wrong colour. Mrs. Hughes placed her hands firmly on her shoulders to discover all of Anna's muscles clenched. It was like she had been locked into place.

"Anna!" she cried again, shaking her now.

The rattle of breath that Anna drew was a horrible sound, but Mrs. Hughes wouldn't have traded it for the sweetest song in the world.

It was as if Anna's lungs had ceased to work properly. She gasped periodically, but seemed unable to take in any air. Anna's eyes were wide with panic, giving Mrs. Hughes an indication that the young woman was aware, if not entirely comprehending, what was happening to her. Mrs. Hughes had seen something like this before, a lifetime ago. Her sister used to hyperventilate seemingly out of the blue. Anna wasn't hyperventilating per se, but the panic swirling around her felt exactly the same. For her sister these episodes had come and gone for years, often with no rhyme or reason to them.

Mrs. Hughes had a pretty good idea of the reason here.

"Come on Anna, we're going breathe together. You and I." She was shocked at how calm her own voice was. "That's it, in and out," Mrs. Hughes demonstrated, trying to get Anna to copy her. It wasn't that the woman wasn't breathing in; it was that she wasn't breathing out.

Anna tried; truly she did, for she wanted nothing more than to regain control. For a good minute she simply couldn't. Mrs. Hughes was patient and eventually Anna managed to somewhat imitate her steady breathing. In and out. In and out. In…in… she kept losing it and it sent her spiralling backwards in alarm. Mrs. Hughes didn't worry when this happened; she gently pulled Anna's concentration back to her and her breathing. In and out. In and out.

It would be several more minutes of this before Anna was capable of speaking, and even then in an incredibly laboured fashion.

"What…what…is...what…"

"You're going to be fine," Mrs. Hughes reassured her, "you're just panicking a little." It was the understatement of the century, but in her soothing tones it sounded comforting. It sounded manageable.

"We're going to sit here, until you feel calm. Alright?"

Anna nodded. So they sat, Mrs. Hughes arm wrapped protectively around Anna's shoulders. Surreptitiously she pressed her fingers onto the maid wrist, pleased to find that her rapid pulse was slowing to a more reasonable rate.

"How do you feel now?"

"My hands," Anna said, staring at them in confusion, "they feel… so strange... like… needles."

This information gave Mrs. Hughes an idea of something else to do. "They'll feel normal soon, here." She rolled Anna's hands between her own, pushing them slowly into fists and back out again.

"You try," she said, having repeated the motion several times. Anna followed her lead, focusing all of her energy on curling and un-curling her fingers. They still trembled slightly, but she controlled them now.

"Mrs. Hughes what am I going to do?"

Mrs. Hughes was prepared for this. "I'll tell you what _we_ are going to do," she said, deliberately stressing the pronoun.

Anna was miles ahead of her. "If he's come back to…to," her breath was catching again.

Mrs. Hughes was anxious to halt this line of thought. "No," she said resolutely, putting her hand on Anna's cheek. "He is never going to hurt you again. Never."

"But don't you see? Just by being here he already has." The tears that Mrs. Hughes had been surprised not to see before appeared now.

Mrs. Hughes gathered Anna up in her arms. "Shhh, I know. I know."

Several unsavoury words for Mr. Green came to Mrs. Hughes' mind, but she refrained from voicing them. They would not make Anna feel any better.

Anna on the other hand thought only of Mr. Bates. "I had a dream, that he'd come back…and now it's real. I can't go back down there like this, Mr. Bates is sure to notice."

Anna was right, they needed to get her out. Mrs. Hughes had an idea: "This is what we're going to do. You recall that you left a load of linens here when you moved back to the cottage."

"What?" Anna didn't recall leaving behind anything.

Mrs. Hughes eyes shone as a plan took shape in her mind. "Yes, you did and I'd like you to take them back to the cottage. Immediately. There's quite a heavy load, you'll have to take Mr. Moseley with you."

Anna's face lit up as she caught onto the game.

"But you don't think Mr. Moseley will find that odd? And Mr. Carson?"

"Mr. Moseley owes me for life," she said emphatically, "if he does find it odd, I doubt he'll quarrel."

"But Mr. Carson? He'll want to know why he's down a footman when we have guests."

"I can deal with Mr. Carson, believe you me."

At a later point in her life Anna would be amused by this comment. "I'm sure," she agreed.

Pleased that Anna was onboard Mrs. Hughes continued, "Once you're home, make an excuse to stay. A headache, perhaps."

"No word of a lie there," Anna injected, rubbing her temples.

"Very well, say that then. I'll make arrangements for Lady Mary tonight. You'll have to try and come back for breakfast or Mr. Bates might be suspicious, but you can stay with him or me until he's gone. I'm sure Lord Gillingham will be away after breakfast – unexpected suitors don't tend to overstay their welcome."

Anna almost smiled at the housekeeper's cynical interpretation of Lord Gillingham's manners.

"You're a wonder Mrs. Hughes," she whispered gratefully.

"As are you Anna," Mrs. Hughes said, "Now, there's some white thread downstairs with your name on it. You can mend whatever you wanted it for while I commandeer Mr. Moseley from Mr. Carson for you."

* * *

He was setting out the silver for dinner, alone for the time being. This was her chance.

"Mr. Carson," her voice intentionally low, "I need to borrow Mr. Mosley to help Anna run an errand."

Mr. Carson looked up at her in surprise. "Right now?"

She had a funny look on her face: part determination, part appeal. "Yes. I'm afraid it cannot wait. "

She didn't have to say anything further; he decided he was better not to interrogate her.

"Very well, is he to be back in time to serve?"

She was startled at how straight forward this was turning out to be. "Likely by the main course if not before."

"Seems fine Mrs. Hughes." The regular Mr. Carson would never have conceded the loss of his footman before dinner, but tonight he followed her lead. There would be a very good reason for this strange request, even if he was never to know what it was.

She nodded in response, as if speaking extraneous words might ruin their precarious understanding.

He wasn't about to let he going quite that easily. He seen her face when Anna had fled the servants hall and her lengthy disappearance had only heightened his suspicions. He leaned in, speaking very quietly, "is she alright?"

Mrs. Hughes bit back the urge to feign ignorance. "She will be," she said evenly.

"And you, are you alright?"

It was the first time she'd stopped and thought about it. Was she? She felt remarkably emotionless at the moment.

"I think so," she said slowly, "the jury might still be out."

He was not perturbed by her imprecise response for he knew she was being perfectly sincere. She was not, for reasons that were only clear to her, capable of explaining everything to him. Despite this they had managed to find a place that didn't involve her outright lying to him and for that they were both grateful. It was taking considerable effort by the two of them to maintain this careful equilibrium. A question too invasive or an answer too dismissive might tip the scales and send them off-kilter.

That day they were perfectly in step. Not a rare occurrence, but not an under-appreciated one either.

* * *

**A/N Despite having witnessed many and experienced a handful myself, I did a good bit of research on panic attacks in order to create one that I felt fit Anna's character. Please don't shake anyone who has stopped breathing as Mrs. Hughes does here, it's a fairly bad idea.**

**More to come, with Carson and Hughes as we deal with the fallout of this chapter. Please let me know what you thought, all critiques welcome.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N If you are particularly clever you may have noticed that the plan Mrs. Hughes hatched in the last chapter would not line up with the timeline established by the show (as Anna is present that evening at dinner). The best-laid schemes…**

**Thank you to Fellows for the boot room scene. **

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

Mr. Moseley was mighty perplexed at being sent on a laundry errand instead of serving dinner, but he did accept the request without too much issue as Mrs. Hughes had predicted.

Unlike her prediction however, Anna returned with him. Mrs. Hughes shot her a confused look across the kitchen as she and Mr. Moseley strode in. She thought Anna looked steadier, the walk in the fresh air clearly having done her some good, but she didn't understand why she'd come back.

Mrs. Hughes heard Mr. Green's voice behind her and instinctively moved to block his view of Anna, abandoning her task of sorting the dessert plates.

"What happened?" she leaned in so that only Anna could hear the question.

Anna twisted her hands together. "I decided I'd rather be here with all of you… and him, than alone."

She looked like a child asking permission, not an adult stating her choice.

"Whatever you like," said Mrs. Hughes reassuringly. She only wanted Anna to feel as safe as possible. She hadn't considered the idea that her own home might not provide it for her. It was good in a way that Anna felt her husband and her colleagues would offer more comfort and security than locking herself away. It could even be perceived as progress. On the other hand Mr. Greens presence had shaken her to the point where she wasn't capable of being alone, so perhaps not progress at all.

She saw Anna's jaw clench at the sound of his laughter and she felt a hot wave of anger pulse through her. His happiness was a mockery, an injustice that she could do nothing to right.

She realized the two of them were in the way, standing in the kitchen. There was nothing more to say anyways, not here with everyone milling about.

Mrs. Hughes spent the rest of evening on edge. Mr. Green's every word rubbed her the wrong way. She even found herself resenting the rest of the staff for laughing and encouraging him, even though rationally she knew they had no way of knowing who he really was.

She knew who he was. He was vile. Pathetic. Unfit the walk the earth.

These were the thoughts she stewed in all evening. Anna was growing paler and more skittish with each passing hour. Every time Mrs. Hughes caught a glimpse of her she felt her anger at Green bubble up inside. _How dare he subject to her to this?! To any of it! _Finally she had to do something.

The servant's hall was fairly empty and certainly empty of the house's least welcome inhabitant.

"Where is he?"

"Sorry?" Jimmy looked up from his letter, confused.

"Mr. Gillingham, I wish to speak with him." Her words were measured, but it was obviously forced.

Mr. Moseley and Miss Baxter stopped their hushed conversation in the corner to listen in.

"I don't know-" began Jimmy.

"He said he had shoes to polish," supplied Miss Baxster helpfully. "You might try the boot room."

She nodded curtly and left without another word. The three servants looked at each other in bewilderment, but none could offer an explanation.

She was going to let him know that she knew exactly who he was. She was going to hold him accountable for what he'd done. He was going to stay in the shadows where he belonged, not parading about like a peacock.

She wasn't sure she knew what she was doing. This course of action was so unplanned, so uncalculated. So unlike her. But she'd decided that he had to know right this instant what she thought of him.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

Mr. Carson called her name down the hall, but she didn't hear him. Her mind was consumed, weaving her words for Green into a tapestry of loathing and intimidation. _I know who you are and I know what you've done._

He wasn't going to play the joker in the servant's hall anymore, not when she was finished with him. She wanted him to fear for his life in this place. She wanted to give him at least the faintest taste of the distress he'd given Anna.

Her gait was slow; Mr. Carson could have easily caught up to her after she failed to hear his greeting. She seemed so engrossed in whatever it was she was about to do that he didn't want to interfere. He hung back; perhaps he would get to see how this played out.

When she set eyes on him, alone in the boot room as Miss. Baxter had indicated, the wheels went into motion. She didn't doubt for a fraction of a second longer.

_"They told me you'd be in here…"_

* * *

_"Don't you dare thank me! I've not kept quiet for your sake!"_

She stormed out, convinced there was nothing more she could possibly say to this contemptible creature. How dare he blame Anna? She couldn't believe he could make such a statement. It was incomprehensible to her.

Her anger blistered. Mrs. Hughes realized she had never known the meaning of true hatred until just then. She'd never imagined despising anyone as much as she despised him.

With such anger came a fundamental change deep within Mrs. Hughes. There were no checks and balances, no careful considerations, no calculated restraint. Her fury engulfed her and eclipsed everything.

She couldn't deal with the world anymore. Her vision started to blur as she made for her sitting room. She had well and truly lost control of herself and needed to take a minute to calm down. No sooner had she closed the door to her sitting room when Mr. Carson yanked it back open and stepped inside, uninvited.

She rounded on him, eyes blazing. Mr. Carson thought she might spit fire.

"What has he done?" demanded Mr. Carson, silencing any protests she could make about his presence.

"What?" she shot forcefully back.

Her anger seemed infectious, "what has he done to elicit this…this…" Mr. Carson couldn't find the words for her rage.

She shook, almost violently so, and her voice became terrifyingly quiet. "What has he done? I tell you what he has done. He has DEFILED the loveliest person in this house and then he waltzes back in here with the AUDACITY to blame her for it!"

There was a stunned silence. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for Mr. Carson. He thought he might be ill.

Mrs. Hughes clapped both hands to her mouth, but the words had long escaped. "I should not have said that," she said, appalled. "I should NOT have said that."

* * *

**A/N I promised myself that I would leave Carson in the dark for the entire story if that was the most honest route, but when I thought about how furious Mrs. Hughes could be I realized her anger had the capacity to override her own good intentions. Then all Mr. Carson had to do was push the right button at the right time, which he can usually be relied upon to do. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Okay, okay. I know I'm playing fast and loose with my own rules as far as keeping this within the confines of cannon. While it ****_might_**** be conceivable that Mrs. Hughes told Mr. Carson and we never saw hint of it, it's ****_quite_**** the stretch.**

**Tell you what, I won't think about it too much if you won't. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

She couldn't look at him. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sink into the floor and disappear from this earth.

It all felt vaguely surreal. Her anger that had burned so hot was quenched with regret for making such a careless statement. The words had tumbled from her mouth before she'd even thought about them, let alone to whom she was saying them to.

When she opened her eyes she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Her cheeks were burning, flushed with embarrassment. She didn't trust herself to speak, having been betrayed by her emotions once already.

Mr. Carson stood at attention, absorbing the situation in all its complexity. They were in a very delicate place and there were far too many emotions, far too close to the surface.

When she finally raised her head to meet his gaze she found his expression methodical and solemn. He did not appear as shocked as she thought he would be. Naturally he'd had his own theories all this time. He knew someone had hurt Anna and he even has his suspicions as to whom, but he had not realized the full extent of Green's brutality until she'd come right out and said it. He'd held onto the hope that it wasn't as bad as his imaginings and now he could see plainly that it was, all that and more.

She's mortified and he saw that. Furious with herself, most likely. But beneath the shock of her own accidental confession there was the pain and heartbreak of a woman carrying a secret she never wanted. When she was brave enough to make eye contact with him he saw her sadness, her frustration and unless he was very much mistaken, a flicker of relief.

There is so much in her look and he knew she was on the brink of shutting down entirely. He was not going to let that happen. The confession could not be unsaid and they're going to deal with it. Together.

But not with them both like this. "Mrs. Hughes," his voice was thick and she realized he had been much more affected by her words than he let on, "why don't I get us a cup of tea?"

It was the most sensible response in the world and Mrs. Hughes was thoroughly glad of him for it. She nodded her agreement. It would give them both some time to compose themselves.

She took a seat, trying to calm herself to the point where she could plan what she was to say next. Her internal voice will not co-operate, it was busy chastising her for her moment of indiscretion. _Elsie Hughes what kind of weak, insensitive person lets their anger get the better of them! You foolish, inconsiderate, stupid stupid stupid woman! _

She'd told Bates out of desperation, Mary out of love and now Mr. Carson out of weakness. _What on earth is the matter with me? It is a wonder anyone ever tells me anything at all! _

The kettle was already on, making the task of fetching the tea shorter than usual for Mr. Carson. Still he took his time getting it all together, allowing the new information to percolate through him. It spurned as many new questions as it had answered. All in good time. His housekeeper was quite overcome, more than he'd ever known her to be in all of their years together. Her confession had been unintentional on the surface, but he personally thought the burden of keeping this secret from him had been unsustainable from the beginning. That did not make her weak to him. She could never be weak to him, for he knew her to be resilient and loyal and brave. Almost too brave for her own good if what he had just witnessed was any indication. He promised himself he would not let her regret telling him.

Back in her sitting room Mrs. Hughes still struggled to stop her inner tirade. _Stupid, stupid, stupid – would you get a grip Elsie! What are you going to say? How are you going to make this right? _

He reappeared bearing the tea tray before she had a solid answer for herself. He poured in silence for her and noticed her hands trembling as she took the cup. There was an unspoken agreement: tea first, words after.

His presence in the room, despite being a source of her anxiety, ultimately had a calming effect. After the first few sips of tea she found herself settling into more and more of her old self. If Mr. Carson noticed the change he didn't comment.

When her cup was half gone she got up the nerve to speak. "I suppose it would be entirely unreasonable to ask you to forget what I have said."

"It would be."

She had thought as much, but it was a start. "I'm very sorry that you found out this way. It was not how such news should be delivered." _Not that it should be delivered at all but it's a little late for that. _

"I wouldn't worry about that. I did have my suspicions Mrs. Hughes."

"About Green?" she was genuinely surprised, "you thought it had been him?"

"Well, you always seemed so… uneasy with him after the house party, though I won't pretend that I fully recognized what he was capable of until you said it." He didn't press her for details. If she wanted to volunteer them he would not object, but he didn't see any reason for her to relive it all again to no purpose. He knew enough.

She hadn't realized exactly how much he'd picked up on. It made her nervous. "Do you think the others suspect him of something?"

Mr. Carson shook his head, "I doubt that. The others don't know you as I do." He leaned over to re-fill her now-empty cup. "They also didn't have the privilege of seeing you glaring at him the last time he was here. Murderous is the only word to describe that look."

"You saw that to then?" Apparently she was about as secretive as an open book.

"I did," he confirmed.

At the memory a spark of anger returned and her hands clenched of their own accord. "I could kill him for what he did. Never have I wished suffering like the suffering I wish to bring down on him."

"That's probably not altogether healthy," Mr. Carson pointed out.

"I don't care."

"Besides, if Mr. Bates finds out he'll probably do it himself."

From her reaction he knew straightaway that he'd said the wrong thing. She drew in a sharp intake of breath and pressed her hands to her face, shielding herself from view.

Immediately he was by her side, brimming with apologies. "Mrs. Hughes I'm so sorry." He couldn't believe that he'd been so thoughtless, "I'm sorry, of course he knows."

Gently he pulled her hands away from her face and held them in his own. "I told him," she whispered. "Not that it was Green, but Anna is terrified that he will find out and frankly so am I."

"Then we won't let him find out," he said, stroking her hand absently.

"We mustn't," she insisted. "You must treat Mr. Bates as if you don't know a wit about any of this. You have no idea what has happened to his wife, you have no idea why she's avoiding Mr. Green and you have no idea why he didn't go to New York with his Lordship."

It was awkward with him crouching beside her chair and clasping her hands so he reluctantly let go and returned to his seat. He had almost entirely forgotten about Mr. Bates not going to New York. "That was also your doing? Keeping Bates here and sending Thomas?"

"Really Lady Mary's doing, I just pushed her in the right direction," said Mrs. Hughes.

She was being humble, he saw right though her. She never ceased to amaze him, how many other strings had she been pulling to keep all of this together?

"I'm sure," he agreed, but she could tell he didn't quite believe her. "Anna must have been grateful for that."

"She was, much to my surprise," said Mrs. Hughes brightening a little.

"You were telling the truth earlier….that she was alright?"

Mrs. Hughes sighed. "Well nobody could be expected to be alright, especially not when he's… back under our roof. But I think she'll make it. She's a tough cookie Anna."

Mr. Carson agreed with her assessment, "she is. And she has you."

Mrs. Hughes studied her hands, unnecessarily. Anna was the closest thing to a daughter she was ever likely to have. Not being able to comfort her had made her feel hopelessly lost and her forgiveness had meant the world to her. She did not dwell on how Anna viewed her too much, but if she was truly honest with herself she had always hoped that Anna saw her as something of a maternal figure. Someone she could trust, someone she could count on, someone who would drop everything for her. All of these things were true of Elsie Hughes.

"Mrs. Hughes?" said Mr. Carson, pulling her gently out of her thoughts.

"I like to think so," she said softly, in answer to his question.

It wasn't the greatest segue, but he didn't think he'd get one any better. "But it is very hard on you I'm sure."

She fixed him with a firm stare. "You are not a man of subtly Mr. Carson."

"Perhaps not," he said sheepishly, "but I'm worried about you, I'm sorry you've been doing this all alone."

"I haven't been alone," she corrected, "you were there. Several times if I recall." She still felt a twinge of embarrassment when she remembered crying in front of him, but mostly she was touched to know he cared so much. The tea, the book, the accepting ridiculous requests without question, all of these things had been him caring for her.

"But I didn't understand what you were going though."

She cocked her head and eyed him carefully. _Where did that come from? _She didn't understand the pain in his voice or the strange look on his face.

"And that …was difficult for you?" she asked.

"Of course if was!" he didn't even try to keep the exasperation from his voice, "It's _always_ difficult."

Visions of her and Mrs. Patmore walking out the door to see Dr. Clarkson sprang to mind first. She had never come clean to him about her potential illness or goodness knows how many other things. He knew this shouldn't bother him quite so much as it did, but worrying about her was second nature to him. Carson worried about a great many things; surely the emotional state of his closest friend was reasonable addition to the list.

She was frowning at him, stuck on his choice of words. "Always?"

It was time to back pedal, he was not about to bring up her health scare now. One day he would confront her about keeping him in the dark during the most frightening moment of her life, but not today.

"You know, generally. Did you think it was easy to see you crying and exhausted, but not knowing why?"

She was biting her lip again. "I suppose not."

"It's not that I minded, I know you had your reasons" he said, eager to reassure her that she'd done nothing wrong. "But I'll not sit here and pretend that it was easy to watch."

It was an admission of a vulnerability she didn't think she would ever hear. She suddenly felt ashamed that she'd made him so miserable and not given his feelings the slightest consideration.

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine Mrs. Hughes." His eyes were warm and forgiving, "truly."

She nodded, graced yet again with his patience and his understanding. She would have to find a way to repay him for his kindness, though at this rate she thought it might take a lifetime.

In the safety of her sitting room she was able to reflect a little more objectively on the evening. She couldn't understand her outburst. Sure she'd been prone to the odd bout of temper, but she'd never had it control her the way it had today. She decided to say as much to him, perhaps he would have an insight she could not see for herself.

"I may never understand how I let myself get so angry." It was a question. _How did this happen? WHY did this happen?_

"Why do you feel the need to dissect it?"

"Because it was wrong!" she exclaimed, "I never meant for it to happen, it just sort of …did. You of all people ought to know that when you make a mistake you analyze it so that you never make it again."

Her appeal to his sense of order was pointless. "Do you think telling me was a mistake?"

That was a very loaded question and she knew it. She chose her words carefully: "I think that losing control of myself was a mistake. I think that breaking Anna's confidence was a mistake. But if you were asked me 'do I regret telling you?' I don't think I would be able to truthfully answer 'no' anymore."

"Do you want to know what I think?" It was a rhetorical question; he was going to tell her anyways. "I think, deep down Mrs. Hughes, you wanted to tell me. Your anger just broke down the barriers that I could not."

She knew he was right, but it didn't make her feel much better about herself. "That doesn't justify breaking Anna's confidence," she said glumly.

They were going to argue in circles if one of them didn't put an end to it. Mr. Carson decided it ought to be him. "Perhaps not, but what's done is done. And I for one am glad to know you trust me Mrs. Hughes. Unintentionally or not."

His kind smile was the silver lining to her thunderstorm of a day.

"I do trust you Mr. Carson, very much."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N I've generally tried to avoid writing out scenes from the show, preferring to lead into them or pick up where they leave off, but in this chapter I felt it was too clunky without the dinner table scene so please bear with me. **

**There were a lot of different ways Carson could have reacted and I re-wrote this chapter several times trying various approaches. Do let me know what you thought of the result. **

* * *

Chapter 12

* * *

By the time the servants dinner was almost ready to be served Mrs. Hughes felt considerably more levelheaded. With her own anger set aside she was better able to focus on the people around her. Ivy and Daisy were at it again, both of them unable to stand the sight of the other since Alfred's visit. It was practically childish the way the two girls carried on, huffing and scoffing at each other over every possible thing. Mrs. Hughes was not terribly concerned about them; love triangles were not uncommon among the younger staff. Or was it a love square? She wasn't sure anymore. It would run it's course, but she did try to keep it under control for Mrs. Patmore's sake if no one else's.

She kept a close eye on Anna, but she seemed to be doing well enough on her own. Just when she thought things might go smoothly she heard Mr. Carson's voice bellowing in the corridor.

"Mr. Gillingham you must be off early tomorrow, why don't you go upstairs and take your dinner in you room?" Mr. Carson's offer sounded more like a demand and it caught Mr. Gillingham by surprise.

"No thank you Mr. Carson, I'm quite happy eating with the rest of you."

"I don't think you should. The tray won't wouldn't take half a minute and you are getting up so early…"

_Drat him!_ Thought Mrs. Hughes. Whatever he was trying to do he was doing a thoroughly unconvincing job.

She hurried into the hallway to rectify the situation. "Mr. Carson, a word if you please," she said brusquely.

"But-"

"Now Mr. Carson," she spat, dismissing Mr. Green with a wave of her hand.

She pulled him into the boot room and shut the door. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" she hissed at him.

Mr. Carson drew himself up to his full height. After all he had only been trying to protect Anna, how could she possibly take issue with that? "Mrs. Hughes. A person of his character under our roof is an abomination as it is, but having him at the dinner table is beyond the pale."

"I would remind you he has already had several meals with us already."

"That was different." _I didn't know who he was then, _he thought to himself. Now that he did, the idea of breaking bread with the man, let alone forcing Anna to, was revolting.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She had dared to think that he would be able to carry on has if she hadn't said anything and there would be no untoward consequences of their little chat. Of course she saw now how naïve that was. He did himself or Anna no favors if he revealed what he knew. She had to make him see that.

"No, Mr. Carson it is not different."

He'd thought she would understand. It was inconceivable to think he was just going to let this go. There had to be something he could do and barring Green from dinner seemed a perfectly good start to him.

"It is completely unacceptable to have him eat with us Mrs. Hughes. What would that make us? We must do something."

She was not swayed in the slightest. "So THIS is what you propose to do about it?" she cried, "Shouting about it in the corridor?"

It was clear to her that he would not be content to sit on the sidelines, but there was nothing she could do about that. Most of the time she felt as if she to were stuck on the sidelines as well, watching as the effects of Green's actions rippled outwards in every direction. He was going to have to get used to it, as she had.

But he was obstinate and unyielding. "I refuse to make him comfortable in this house. Not now that I understand what he's done to our Anna."

His attitude only enraged her further. "Listen here Mr. Carson. You are not doing her any favours by telling him, or God forbid HER that you know!"

"I wasn't doing anything of the sort!" he protested.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Anyone with half a brain could have read between the lines. I've said it before and I'll say it again: you are a terrible liar."

The blow hit its mark and Mr. Carson found himself at a loss, "But there must be some thing that I can do to help," he insisted.

"You cannot help because you don't know anything," she said firmly.

This confused him. "I know everything, _you_ told me everything."

She put her hands on her hips. Mr. Carson would have been amused at her unusual posture if he hadn't been so intimidated by the effect. "I know THAT," she said hotly, "but as far as anyone else in the house is concerned – and that includes Mr. Green mind - you know nothing, understand me?"

A little part of him knew that she was right, but it was just so difficult for him to accept. Nothing downstairs was supposed to be out of his control and he felt utterly powerless now.

"I suppose," he said crestfallen, "I just can't bear the thought of her forced to eat dinner with him."

Mrs. Hughes realized a touch too late that she'd scolded him rather harshly for what had really been, at its core, a valiant attempt to protect Anna. She'd been dealing with this for long enough that she'd learned to navigate where and when she could stick her oar in and where she couldn't. Of course with him being told mere hours ago he did not have the same luxury.

She put a comforting hand on his forearm, "I'm sorry Mr. Carson. You were only trying to help."

He looked thoroughly defeated. "No no, you're right," he conceded. "It's just…" he didn't know how to articulate he felt.

"Frustrating beyond measure?" she supplied, looking up at him sympathetically.

He looked down at her to find his own chaotic emotions mirrored back at him. "Exactly," he agreed.

They may have been miserable, but they understood each other's misery completely and there was some solace in that. She patted his arm comfortingly, the gentle touch erasing her harsh words.

The moment was halted abruptly by Daisy dashing in. Mrs. Hughes whisked her hand away from him just in time, lest the assistant cook get the wrong idea.

"Um, I'm sorry, but Mrs. Patmore would like to know if you are – ah - going to let the cabbage get any colder before you eat."

Mrs. Hughes suppressed a smile at Daisy's little speech. They were probably delaying dinner, they'd better get on.

Mr. Carson cleared his throat, "We're coming now, thank you Daisy." He led the way to the servant's hall.

Mrs. Hughes hung back, "did she actually say that?" she murmured to Daisy:

Daisy blushed, "Not exactly. She actually said to tell you: the cabbage was going to be a mushy as rotted pomace if you didn't bother to serve it up soon. I suspect she might be tired of reheating it."

Mrs. Hughes laughed at this. "Better go help her put it on the table then," she said. Daisy hastened back to the kitchen to inform the irritated cook they were coming.

* * *

_"I wasn't working here then. It's a pity because I admire Nellie Melba. I'd have loved to hear her sing."_

Mrs. Hughes looked up in dismay at Miss Baxter's unfortunate choice of conversation. The house party had been one of the highlights of the year; it was unreasonable to expect it not to come up once in a while.

"You must be joking," said Mr. Gillingham dismissively.

"Why?" questioned Daisy, "I thought she had a beautiful voice."

Mrs. Hughes shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She couldn't think of a single reasonable way to derail this conversation. If Mr. Gillingham had heeded her angry words to him one wit he would have kept his wretched mouth shut, but no he barreled on.

"Beautiful?" he said. "Screaming and screeching as if her finger was caught in the door? I swear I couldn't take it for one more moment."

Mrs. Hughes snuck a glance at Anna to see how she was coping to find her fixated on cutting a piece of ham into minuscule pieces. The maid's shoulders seemed tense, but she seemed to be breathing naturally enough from what she could see. Thank heaven for small mercies.

"So what did you do?" asked Miss Baxter.

Mrs. Hughes could have sworn Baxter was pushing the subject deliberately. _Don't you dare answer that, _she willed him silently.

"Well I came down here for a bit of piece and quiet."

Mrs. Hughes couldn't believe his nerve. Her eyes widened and she looked to Anna. Anna met her glance fleetingly before turning her gaze away to stare at the table. She looked remarkably composed, even flashing a smile to her husband as Mr. Gillingham reached for the cauliflower cheese.

It was too little, too late. Mrs. Hughes observed Mr. Bates' shaking hands and his murderous glare. Mr. Gillingham's boldness would be his undoing. Bates knew.

The rest of the dinner was a fairly quiet affair. Mrs. Hughes was no longer hungry, but she ate anyways out of obligation. There was no more talk of the house party, but the damage had been done. Anna had practically wilted away in her chair, her demeanor not fooling anyone, least of all her husband. Mr. Carson looked to Mrs. Hughes for guidance in how to react, but she could only shrug and glare bitterly at the table.

He rose before dessert, giving them all the opportunity to leave if they wanted to and have the meal be cut somewhat short. He wasn't in the mood for it anyways. He was faintly pleased to see Anna and Mr. Bates take the opening and head for home without tasting Mrs. Patmore's lemon tart.

With a cursory "goodnight" he left the servants hall, leaving Mrs. Hughes to her glaring. Really, she talked about him being obvious, but she was just as bad pulling such faces. Not that he blamed her; the whole thing was enough to make anyone glower without restraint.

Alone in his pantry he pulled out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. Presumptuous? Perhaps, but he didn't think unrealistic. He would be proved right in less than two minutes flat when he heard a soft rapping on the door.

"Come in," he said, pouring a measure into the second glass. He held it up as a greeting to Mrs. Hughes as she entered. "Brandy?"

"Coping with alcohol already are we?" she said pleasantly. He raised his eyebrows in response.

"Well count me in," she said taking the glass from him. She took a sip and smacked her lips. It was strong and it hit the spot. She settled into the chair opposite, peering at him over her glass.

"They're gone then," he confirmed, referring of course to Mr. and Mrs. Bates.

"They are," she said, taking another sip.

"He knows you know," Mr. Carson said tonelessly. Mr. Bates shaking hands had not escaped the eyes of Mr. Carson. Paired with the knowledge he'd attained from her that evening his conclusion was irrefutable.

"You don't say."

"What are we going to do about that?" He was still stuck on fixing the problem when no solution existed.

"Nothing, I'd imagine," she said simply, "and pray Mr. Bates does nothing as well."

He thought long and hard about that. She was right of course and he didn't like it one bit.

"Mrs. Hughes this is a awful position to be in," he said sadly.

"It certainly is," she said, raising her glass in mock celebration. "Regretting my telling you yet?"

"No," he said quickly, "I just meant-"

She raised her hand to gently cut him off, "I know what you meant Mr. Carson," she said tenderly, "and I wouldn't blame you if you did regret it, though I know that you don't."

Her words set him at ease and they sat in comfortable silence for several minutes nursing their drinks.

As he drained his glass Mr. Carson fished for a comforting thing to say to her. Finally beginning to accept that there was no satisfying solution to the problem he settled for the next best thing: "He will be gone tomorrow morning, perhaps then we can wash our hands of him entirely."

Mrs. Hughes did not seem cheered by his statement. "Until Lord Gillingham comes back of course, which I fear might be quite soon given I hear he's quite taken with your Lady Mary."

"Now why is she my Lady Mary whenever you're displeased?"

"Isn't she? You're dreadfully fond of her," she said lightheartedly.

"Touché. But I'll not apologize for liking a daughter of this house."

He could be so serious sometimes! It was almost too easy to tease him. Mrs. Hughes smiled, "I'll not ask you to Mr. Carson. Just an observation."

He smiled to see her smile, even if it was at his expense. She drained her glass as well and placed it next to his empty one.

"I ought to turn in. Thank you for the drink," her voice was soft and calm. She was miles from the furious person he'd confronted hours before. She looked tired, but not altogether unhappy and that made Mr. Carson feel infinitely better about the way the evening had gone. Nothing had been resolved and perhaps it never would be, but when she smiled at him he felt like he might have managed to do right by her at least.

"Indeed," he agreed, tucking the bottle away in his desk. "Good night Mrs. Hughes."

"Good night Mr. Carson."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

Several weeks had past since the departure of Lord Gillingham and his valet. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes let the subject drop, focusing on the day-to-day business of the house. Neither one of them believed the matter was truly closed, but with the man gone and Anna looking steadily more comfortable by the day there was nothing to be said.

It almost seemed over and done with, until one Tuesday night when Anna knocked on Mrs. Hughes door.

"Do you have a minute?"

Mrs. Hughes looked up from her ledgers to find Anna looking decidedly upset.

"Certainly, come in." She set the books aside and crossed the room to shut the door. Whatever Anna wanted, it didn't seem like something that should be overheard. "What is it?"

Anna looked conflicted, as if she were battling many emotions at once. "Lady Mary asked me to bring you a message, saying that Lord Gillingham would be breaking his journey home tomorrow night." She was speaking unnaturally fast, as if trying to get the words over with as quickly as possible.

Mrs. Hughes face fell. This was the day she had dreaded. Before she could say anything Anna rushed on. "I told her, about…about Mr. Green. You see if he comes here Mr. Bates is sure to find out sooner or later."

_Heavens, is that still what she thinks? _Mrs. Hughes firmly believed that Mr. Bates was completely aware of what Mr. Green had done, but she was not about to shatter Anna's illusions now.

"You told her then?" It was a big step and Mrs. Hughes was quite proud of her, "and what did she say?"

"That she would telephone him not to come, or not to bring him."

"Good," said Mrs. Hughes nodding. It was an excellent plan and she was very grateful for Lady Mary's quick action. She would have to make a point of saying so if the opportunity arose.

"I thought I'd let you know. I'm glad she's going to do something, I'm dreadfully afraid Mr. Bates will guess if he returns."

Mrs. Hughes bit her tongue. Anna's concern for her husband's wellbeing over her own was almost maddening. Perhaps fussing over him was her way of coping; if she was worried about him she didn't have time to be worried about herself. Still the fact that Anna spent so much time in fear of her husband's revenge, instead of leaning on him for support vexed her greatly. Not to mention there was some truth to Mr. Bates volatility that could not be ignored. Having him and Mr. Green in close quarters was a recipe for disaster. Now that Lady Mary knew, perhaps they could work to get him dismissed. Not exactly the justice Mrs. Hughes would have liked, but it would have to do.

"Well, I'm sure it won't come to that," she said to Anna reassuringly. _Because it already has, _she added to bitterly to herself.

* * *

The following morning brought an unusual request for Mrs. Hughes. "Lady Mary wishes to see you in the library," Mr. Carson informed her. "Though she has not said why."

He looked at her enquiringly, hoping that she would offer an explanation. She provided him with none. "I'll be right up then," she said, carefully putting aside the remains of her toast.

He couldn't let her go without asking: "Is there anything I should know?"

"How would I know?" she said with a shrug of her shoulders. It wasn't entirely true, she had some idea of what Lady Mary might want her for. She didn't think it was to give her good news. She would wait and see before worrying Mr. Carson about it, perhaps it was something completely benign.

Of course it wasn't. Mary stood stiffly by the window, only turning when she heard Mrs. Hughes enter.

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm afraid I have some troubling news." Mary's tone was prim and formal, but Mrs. Hughes could see the undercurrents of worry in her face. "It seems Lord Gillingham will be here tonight, I haven't been able to put him off."

She'd thought as much, but it was still a blow to hear her say it. Anna had made so much progress; it was terrible to think that some of it might be undone.

"I see m'lady. I assume you have asked me here to discuss more than sleeping arrangements?"

"Yes, Anna told you that she'd confided in me I take it?" Mrs. Hughes gave a small nod and Mary continued, "I did try to contact him, but he had already left and there was nothing more I could do."

Mrs. Hughes didn't think she'd ever heard Lady Mary sound so genuinely sorry in her life. She felt a little tug of affection for this woman who had wanted so badly to help Anna and who was so disappointed to find she'd failed.

"I know you tried your best m'lady. And we have more warning then the last time so perhaps it will be easier." She didn't truly think it would be any easier at all, but it seemed like a comforting thing to say. Lady Mary nodded, but her brow furrowed in distress.

"I do worry for her while he's here, but I don't know what else I am to do! I can't very well turn them away at the door."

Mrs. Hughes would have liked very much to turn him away at the door and fantasied for a brief moment about forcing him to sleep with the pigs Lady Mary had so fearlessly rescued. Even that was too good for the likes of him.

"No, I suppose we cannot." There would be no turning them away no matter what. Lady Mary was just as trapped by social conventions as Mrs. Hughes was by her place and her duties.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do. I have a mind to insist he dismiss Green as soon as possible. He'll do it, if I ask."

Mrs. Hughes did not doubt that, but it would have been out of place to say so. "That would be greatly appreciated m'lady."

"I'll tell Anna myself if you don't mind. I'd like her to know that I tried."

Mrs. Hughes did not see the difference if it came from her or Lady Mary. Not that it seemed she was to have a say in the matter.

"As you wish m'lady. Is that all?"

"Yes Mrs. Hughes, thank you."

* * *

_"Anna? She's told you then."_

_"Don't give me away Mrs. Hughes please. I can get through it." _

Mrs. Hughes looked up and down the corridor. It was empty, but not guaranteed to remain that way.

"You're going to give yourself away in a minute dear, come with me." Anna's tears were not going to be hidden with a wipe of her sleeve at this point. Gently Mrs. Hughes led her by the elbow into her sitting room. A fresh handkerchief appeared out of her pocket and Anna dried her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Anna insisted, "just please don't tell anyone."

_Who else have I left to tell? _Mrs. Hughes thought to herself. Anna sniffed, trying to regain her composure. Mrs. Hughes stood at arms length to give Anna some space. The news of Mr. Greens return had put her in a right state and Anna latched onto a perpetual fear.

"Mr. Bates, he mustn't know! Mrs. Hughes, he mustn't!" She was getting worked up again and Mrs. Hughes cursed under her breath. Mr. Green was going to be back in this house and all Anna could think about what her husband might do.

"Anna!" she said, placing her hands on the young woman's shoulders. "Forget about Mr. Bates for half a minute. He'll be none the wiser I promise you."

"You can't know that," Anna cried.

_Oh but I do, _Mrs. Hughes thought bitterly. She would have told Anna right then and there that her husband already knew everything, if she didn't think it might make things even worse.

As far as Mrs. Hughes was concerned the most important thing now what getting Anna to face that fact that Green was coming back and how that might affect her. She did not know very much about this kind of trauma, but surely seeing him again was going to prove very challenging indeed. Surely Anna needed to come to terms with that if she was ever going to get through it.

"Yes, I do. Anna never mind Mr. Bates… are you going to be alright to see him again?"

"I'll have to be." Anna's bottom lip trembled as she fought back more tears. She was trying to be strong, but the mask was slipping away.

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes whispered softly, "that's not what I meant."

Anna knew what Mrs. Hughes was getting at, but she wasn't willing to acknowledge it. Her face crumpled and she pulled away. "Why are you being like this?"

The words stung and Mrs. Hughes doubted herself for a moment. Perhaps she was pushing too hard, doomed only to make Anna feel worse. She meant what she'd said though and wasn't one for backing down.

"Because you are not facing yourself Anna. Sometimes you need to put yourself first."

"I can't…I can't," she would have fled the room, but her legs wouldn't co-operate. They'd turned to jelly and she settled for sinking to the floor hugging her knees.

The visual image of Anna curled up once again on her sitting room floor cut Mrs. Hughes to the bone. _Lord Elsie have you no sense? Look what you've done! _She hadn't meant to…she'd only wanted her to…damn it all.

She knelt beside her, determined to make this right. The floor was cold and hard on her knees but that didn't matter now. _You made this wretched mess Elsie, it's time you pick up the pieces. _

"Anna…" she said tenderly, stroking the maid's hair. Anna didn't pull away this time, but she didn't lift her head either.

Anna's skirts muffled her voice but the pain was evident. "Am I never to feel safe in this house again?"

There it was. This was never truly about Mr. Bates at all, no matter what she'd said. Anna's tears reappeared and her grief took over once again. Mrs. Hughes wrapped her arms around the sobbing young woman and eased her gently onto her lap. _Did you really have to break her into little pieces Elsie? How exactly to you plan on building her back up? _There was no doubt in Mrs. Hughes mind that Anna was strong enough to manage this, but it made her furious that she had to deal with it at all.

She leaned back against the desk, smoothing Anna's hair and letting her cry. Before she knew it there were a few stray tears of her own, though if they were for Anna or herself she could not say.

The door of her sitting room creaked open and Mrs. Hughes locked eyes with a very startled Mr. Carson. Mrs. Hughes shook her head slightly, indicating that it was a very bad time to be interrupted. Quietly, and with a degree of reluctance he would have never imagined, he shut the door. Anna was oblivious to it all, her face hidden in Mrs. Hughes skirt.

Down the hall Mr. Carson strode, face like a thundercloud. He made it about ten paces before doubling back to stand guard by the door.

* * *

Back in the sitting room Mrs. Hughes brushed her own tears away with the hem of her sleeve and helped Anna sit up. Her crying had run it's course for now and Mrs. Hughes was anxious to instil some feeling of security in her again.

"Look at me Anna."

Anna obliged. She let out a small hiccup and her hand instinctively flew to her mouth to cover it. It was such a dainty gesture amid her raw emotional turmoil. Mrs. Hughes smiled and brushed the last few tears from the maids face away with gentle sweep of her hand.

"You can do this. I know you know that." The housekeeper's eyes shone with conviction. Anna nodded, almost imperceptibly. "We're going to keep you safe, I promise you. Do you believe me?" Mrs. Hughes wasn't sure what the going rate for one of her promises was these days, but there were no stronger words in the English language for her to draw on.

"I want to," Anna's voice quavered but there was an unmistakable determination behind it. Mrs. Hughes was heartened to hear a spark of the indomitable spirit she knew the woman possessed.

"Trust me, we won't let anything happen to you. Understand?"

"Yes." She sounded surer, steadier. Her mask of forced composure was slipping back on, but it was a necessity for now. _One day_ Mrs. Hughes prayed, _she won't need it. _

"Good." And she meant it.

Suddenly the floor was a very uncomfortable place to be and they pulled themselves clumsily to their feet. Anna smoothed her dress, which was dreadfully wrinkled from sprawling on the ground. Her face was set with a grim determination. Their conversation was over and Anna made for the door, her chin held high.

Before she left she turned to Mrs. Hughes. "You're an awfully meddlesome person Mrs. Hughes. Sometimes I don't know if I should curse you or thank you for it." Her face was neutral, not revealing her feelings either way.

_A little bit of both probably wouldn't be amiss, _Mrs. Hughes thought as Anna departed. She sighed, unsure of what to make of the situation and of herself. _I have no idea what I'm doing. _It was a stray poisonous thought. It twisted through her leaving her feeling very small indeed.

Mr. Carson had waiting until Anna was out of the hall before pushing into Mrs. Hughes sitting room. His eyes searched her, trying to assess the damage done.

She looked up at him sadly, "sometimes I don't know if my ends justify my means Mr. Carson."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

* * *

"Mrs. Hughes? Are you alright?"

Clearly she was not. It had broken his heart to see his mighty housekeeper reduced to tears. He'd heard the news of Lord Gillinghams imminent return and it had not taken any effort to understand what had set off Anna. Mrs. Hughes on the other hand seemed much more upset by it than he had expected and he needed to find out why.

She snuck a glance at the clock. "It'll be time for the dressing gong soon."

He wasn't moved by her remark. "Answer the question," he insisted. His eyes were worried. _Tell me that you're alright. Please. _

"I'm fine Mr. Carson," she lied, "it's not me you should be worried about."

He didn't believe her, but she'd refused to give him anything to go on.

"If you say so Mrs. Hughes." He tried to keep his frustration at her stonewalling out of his voice, with little success. He wished that she would tell him what was going on. It was so difficult to be left in the dark, not knowing what to say or what she needed. She forced a smile that she desperately wanted to be real and left him to his thoughts.

* * *

Supper had been an uncomfortable affair as far as Mrs. Hughes was concerned. She tried to keep her face disinterested in the goings on, focusing her attention on either Anna or her plate. Anna refused to meet her gaze the entire meal. Mrs. Hughes tried not to become disheartened by this, but it was far from easy.

Mr. Carson was conspicuously absent from the table, but none of the staff bothered asking about it. It was a busy night and there were a multitude of reasons he might be away. She thought he might have mentioned it to her at the very least. She could have used a friendly face. Apparently this was too much to ask.

She made up her mind to go see him after supper. He owed her an explanation.

* * *

"We missed you at dinner." It was much later than she intended to go and see him, but luckily for her he was still awake.

He didn't seem to be doing anything…had he been waiting for her? Surely not. She studied him, puzzled. She couldn't read his face. He wore a serious expression, something between anger and sadness. Suddenly 'we missed you at dinner' sounded jovial and lighthearted compared to the heaviness that engulfed the room. What was he about?

Sensing that perhaps he was not in the mood to talk at all she turned away. It was an uncomfortable atmosphere and she didn't want any part in making it worse.

"I wasn't hungry." His explanation was sharp and to the point. She turned back, carefully closing the door behind her.

"That's all," he finished.

"That's all," she parroted, unsure of how to else respond. She stood there awkwardly, twisting her hands in knots. Why was this so difficult? It didn't make any sense. They were supposed to be supportive and now they were walking on eggshells around each other. He stared at the floor, trying to figure out what to do next.

She sat down, uninvited and placed her hands carefully in her lap. Simple. Straightforward.

"I'm upset," she offered, as plainly as possible. His eyes darted upwards to meet hers.

"I'm upset too," he agreed. It was unusual to hear such a blatant declaration about feelings from him, especially considering how negative the feeling in question was.

"With me?" she wasn't sure where that came from. Insecurity perhaps, she had the sense that she'd let him and Anna down.

"With him." Mr. Carson was surprised to see her jump to the conclusion he was upset with her. He was speaking as bluntly as possible and still she misunderstood him.

"Of course," she said. She bit her lip in annoyance. Obviously he was upset with Green. Everyone should be upset with Green. But there was a ten-foot wall between them and she didn't know why.

"Mrs. Hughes," he said, grinding his teeth together. "What on earth is going on here?"

She wasn't sure if she knew the answer to that. She tried to put her finger on what precisely was bothering her so. Finally she found words for her frustration.

"You abandoned me at dinner."

He didn't miss a beat. "You refused to tell me why you were crying."

She crossed her arms. "So you are upset with me," she challenged.

He glared back. "I did not _abandon_ you."

They had arrived at an impasse. Both hurt, both longing to be sympathetic, both unable to reconcile their feelings. They weren't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be a team.

Mrs. Hughes was close to angry tears. Mr. Carson realized that they could not afford to let their stubbornness get the better of them. She was crumbling in front of him; concessions were going to have to be made.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hughes," he said, setting his frustration aside as best he could, "would you please tell me what's wrong."

He had taken the first step; it was up to her to join him. His eyes pleaded with her and she surrendered.

"Please don't be angry at me. I couldn't bear to have you angry at me right now," her voice sounded so small. For Mr. Carson it was like looking at an entirely different person. She seemed so fragile, so unsure of herself. He regretted snapping at her, though after the fact Mrs. Hughes would insist that he had every right to be upset with her.

"I'm not," he said warmly, "I promise."

There was that word again. Promise. Secrets and Promises. Mrs. Hughes was quite fed up with both of them. She didn't what she was supposed to do about any of it. Maybe she did once, but now she felt like she was in over her head.

"I don't know how to be the person she needs me to be."

Mr. Carson was taken aback. He had been prepared for her to be upset over Anna's suffering or disheartened by the set back this would be for the girls recovery. He had not expected such uncertainty in herself. Her ability to always know what to do and what to say in these situations had always seemed to come so naturally to her. In this regard he'd always felt she had a mystical quality, an intuition he'd always taken for granted.

The tearful woman before him was a harsh reminder that she was, in fact, simply a person. One with a finite amount of self-assurance and emotional capacity. It came as a surprise to him, even though he knew it shouldn't have. His mistake was understandable; this revelation had come as a surprise to her to.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping her tears hurriedly away. "I just feel very foolish at the moment."

"I can't imagine why," said Mr. Carson honestly, "what exactly happened before dinner?" He knew he hadn't gotten the full story yet. Something tipped her over the edge and he wanted to understand what it was. He wanted to understand everything.

She kept her eyes to the floor, but felt she owed him the explanation. "I pushed her to address her feelings about Green coming back. A bit too hard I think. I don't think it went very well."

"I see." No wonder she felt awful if she thought she'd added to Anna's misery. He didn't think that she was actually capable of making things worse; only that she thought she was. Tough love was as difficult to give, as it was to receive.

"I don't always have all the answers Mr. Carson. Much as I pretend that I do." She felt like an imposter. "Are you disappointed in me?"

"Heavens no!" he exclaimed. Her head snapped up and she was met with his sympathetic gaze. "I know you did your best."

"But it isn't good enough," she protested, wringing her hands.

"It is your best Mrs. Hughes. It is completely unreasonable to expect any more of yourself."

"I know. But I can't help it. I still feel as if I'm failing her."

How could she possibly have such impossibly high standards for herself? He refused to let her wallow in her own self-pity. He stood and walked over to her, standing imposingly over her chair.

"Mrs. Hughes," he began, in a serious tone. "You are a woman of incredible compassion and strength. Your presence is a blessing to Anna and everyone else this house. So please no more of this."

She smiled, both at his sincerity and to see her own rhetorical style used against her. She didn't feel quite so small anymore and her own defeatism was no longer palatable to her. She reached out and took one of his hands, squeezing it gratefully. "Thank you for that Mr. Carson."

He nodded, gratified that she'd taken his words to heart. Her emotional reaction to the day was far from over, but at least they'd started to turn the tide.

She thought, possibly selfishly, that she could have used his reassuring self at dinner. He still hadn't explain that to her. "Why weren't you there?"

Mr. Carson hesitated. "At dinner? Isn't it obvious?" he said gruffly.

"No," she said, scrunching up her face. She didn't have the slightest idea what he was getting at.

"After I saw you and Anna… I found myself angry. Uncontrollably angry Mrs. Hughes, for all the pain and suffering he'd brought into this house." _For all the pain and suffering he brought Anna. For all the pain and suffering he brought you. _

She had always assumed she was the irrationally angry one of the pair, that he was the tempering, level headed one. She realized, with a little wave of guilt, that she didn't have a monopoly on outrage.

"So much so that you couldn't eat supper." It was not a question; it was an acknowledgement of his emotions.

"I'm ashamed to say so," he said frankly. "Honestly Mrs. Hughes I feel as if I could rip him limb from limb."

"Well for goodness sakes don't! We've enough to deal with already." She would never understand why she felt compelled to respond to serious statements with jests. Luckily the levity was much appreciated by Mr. Carson who smiled at her.

"I know, but I could," he said, with a raise of his eyebrows.

"And I do appreciated the sentiment Mr. Carson." She stifled an involuntary yawn. It was getting very late; they should both have been in bed already.

"I think it's time to bid this miserable day goodnight Mrs. Hughes," he said resolutely. She quite agreed with him and they climbed the stairs to the servant's wing in comfortable silence.

As she drifted off to sleep that night Mrs. Hughes offered up an earnest prayer of thanksgiving for Charles Carson.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N The natural conclusion of this story for me was with Mr. Green's death so this will be our final chapter. I won't be dealing with the discovered train ticket plot line. It was so full of holes; it would be impossible to plug them all. Instead we end, as we should, with a glass of sherry in the pantry. **

**Thank you to all of you for your follows, favourites and reviews – you're a wonderful group of people whose support is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy. **

**-K**

* * *

Chapter 15

* * *

The next few weeks would see the house and its occupants slip back into routine. Mrs. Hughes' crisis of faith in her own abilities had lifted, thanks in part to Mr. Carson, and she tackled life in the vigorous manner she always had. Anna's coldness to Mrs. Hughes existed mostly in the housekeeper's head and quickly the impression ebbed away. They did not speak of Mr. Green again. Mrs. Hughes had resolved not to broach the topic if Anna herself did not bring it up. When Anna elected not to she was content to let it lie.

Mr. Carson watched as the two women shared in frustration over a hopelessly stained evening dress or in delight at results of Mrs. Patmore's new scone recipe. It pleased him to see them both happy and affectionate again, particularly with regards to each other. This was not to say that Anna's anxieties were over, but how she dealt with it had slowly changed. Mrs. Hughes sitting room became a refuge for her whenever she found herself having a moment of difficulty. Often she would appear in the doorway, usually with a cup of tea in her hand as pretense, and sit on the housekeeper's settee in silence until whatever she was feeling had past. Mrs. Hughes quickly learned that words were not needed, just a quiet place for the girl to rest a moment in order to carry on with her day. The housekeeper would work away at her ledgers or whatever else she had been doing at the time, and let the Anna sit in peace. Occasionally she would offer a chocolate biscuit from the tin hidden in her desk. They never spoke. When it was over Anna would leave, as quietly as she'd come, but always with an air of calmness and gratitude that reassured Mrs. Hughes all was well again.

With time these visits would become less and less frequent. Mrs. Hughes could not have pinpointed the very last one exactly, but after the Season they would disappear altogether. She did not mind them in the slightest, but she was not sad to see Anna stop needing them.

The one and only exception to the veil of silence on the matter would come at the church bazar. The news of Green's death had rattled Anna and she felt compelled to inform Mrs. Hughes herself. Anna felt that outside in on the lawn in the beautiful sunshine seemed like an odd setting in which to bring up such a dark subject, but there was nothing for it.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

Anna had caught her alone as she ferried trays of teacups between the house and the tents outside. She was balancing several trays at once, rather well actually, but Anna didn't think she should be carrying so many.

"Surely a footman could do that?" suggested Anna, kindly holding out her hands to take one from her.

"No no, I don't mind," replied Mrs. Hughes cheerfully, waving off Anna's offer. She was being truthful; the physical labor of the task was not daunting to her. She rearranged them in her arms to get a better grip. "What is it that you want?" she asked.

"There's been word from London…it seems Mr. Green is dead," said Anna quietly.

"What?" The shock was impossible to hid from her features. She let Anna take one of the trays now, no longer sure she could keep them steady. "But how?"

"An accident," said Anna quickly, "he fell into the street and was hit by a car or a lorry or something."

Well. That was something. Mrs. Hughes couldn't say she was sorry, but it didn't seem like an appropriate thing to say. She turned her attentions to Anna, trying to assess how she was taking it.

"Are you alright?" she murmured, attempting to keep her voice from carrying across the lawn.

"A little shocked maybe, but I'll be fine," Anna said. "I just thought you'd like to know."

She couldn't ask for anymore than that. She noticed Lady Edith summoning Anna from across the grass and realized that the conversation must come to a close. Carefully the maid placed the tea tray back in Mrs. Hughes arms and skipped off without another word, leaving Mrs. Hughes to sort out her thoughts. An accident…could the fates really have been so kind? She certainly hoped so, for all their sakes.

She didn't hear Mr. Carson come up behind her, even on grass the man managed to walk perfectly silently. He'd noticed her surprised expression when talking to Anna and rightly assumed that their conversation had been about more than merely teacups.

"What was that about?" His voice was soft and inviting. They'd become quite close recently, particularly when Anna was concerned. It had been impossible not to.

She looked around to ensure they were well out of earshot of anyone else. "Green is dead," she said, her voice laced with disbelief.

"What?"

"Hit by a lorry or some-" her explanation was cut off by the approach of Lord Grantham. He made a beeline for Carson, asking something about wine and Mrs. Hughes decided it was time to get the trays into the house. She shot Mr. Carson a look over her shoulder and mouthed one word. "Later."

Mr. Carson gave a nod in return. Later.

* * *

They were both exhausted by the end of the day, but she had promised him later and later only meant one thing. He'd heard the story of Mr. Green's untimely demise trickle through the staff. He'd have to put a stop to the gossip tomorrow, but for now he was gratified to know exactly what had happened. It left him feeling oddly unsettled and he wasn't sure precisely why. He busied himself with setting out the sherry glasses while he waited for the knock that was sure to come.

Lo and behold it did, followed by her silent entrance. She smiled to see the tray he'd laid out for them and nodded her desire to have him pour. He handed her the glass with a small smile and they sunk into their respective chairs.

"Out with it." She had a way of getting right to the point when she wanted to. It had taken her all of five seconds to size him up and determine that something was eating him. She knew he would tell her what it was.

"What?" he had to put up some semblance of composure, even though he knew she saw right through it.

"I'm too tired for preamble tonight Mr. Carson. Out with it" She smiled at him, but it was clear she wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush. This was about what he'd told her that afternoon, she was sure. Something had left him disconcerted and she was going to hear it, just as soon as he found the words.

When he spoke he spoke slowly, hoping that she would understand his mindset even if he didn't. "Mrs. Hughes he's gone to meet his Maker who will impart the ultimate justice for his crimes. So why do I still feel so unsatisfied?"

Mrs. Hughes had felt similar, but the reason for it had appeared fully formed in her mind. She smiled sadly at him, understanding completely.

"Because," she said softly, "there will never truly be justice for Anna."

The wisdom of this simple phrase would never leave Mr. Carson. She had it, bang on as usual. Anna would heal, of that he was sure, but there could never be anything that would make up for what had happened. Every outcome was a compromise, even the villain's early death.

She slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was her little way of showing him that she understood. They would never be satisfied, but they would move on with their lives as Anna moved on with hers. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, tracing tiny patterns across her skin. Her hands were soft, supple, steady. Hands that had dried tears and wrung in worry, hands that had clenched in frustration and shook with rage. Hands that had soothed and healed and helped. It was incredible to him, this woman so full of love and understanding. Only once he had been privy to her vulnerably did he fully appreciate the magnitude her strength. He felt overwhelmed by the sudden swelling of emotion in his chest.

"Mrs. Hughes," he said very quietly, "have I ever told you how much I admire you?"

Mrs. Hughes had not been expecting such a meaningful decree of appreciation for what she thought was a very simple observation. Her eyes flicked up to met his gaze and she found nothing but the most sincere admiration there. She knew he wasn't talking about the last hour or the last week, but about their whole lives.

"No," she said softly, "I don't believe so." It was the truth, he hadn't. She'd always thought he held her in fairly high regard as far as her competency and professionalism were concerned. On a personal level she knew that she held his respect. Outright admiration on the other hand was not something she would have ever accused him of. Not before today.

"Well I do, very much." The words seemed hopelessly inadequate, but the looked they shared showed that she understood him perfectly. She felt a rush of emotion as she took in his affectionate expression. No one had ever looked at her quite like that before.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, surprised at the steadiness of her own voice. "That means a lot."

She squeezed his hand gently once more, her touch conveying everything she didn't know how to say. She knew she wouldn't be the same person without him. Did he know the strength he gave her with just a kind word or a smile? She hoped so. Her eyes fluttered closed, savouring the last piece of their treasured time together at the end of the day. When she opened them she knew they had to be getting on. To their beds and to whatever awaited them tomorrow.

He let her hand go, biding her a fond goodnight. No matter what the future held, of one thing Charles Carson was certain: there was no person on earth he cherished more than Elsie Hughes.

The End.


End file.
